


a constellation to stir my heart

by Syster



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, Mpreg, Mutual Pining, Non-Idol AU, Park Jinyoung has a pregnancy kink, Slice of Life, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syster/pseuds/Syster
Summary: Jackson Wang suddenly returns to Seoul from Hong Kong. Recently heartbroken, alone and carrying a surprise, it's really just good luck that Jackson has such good friends, especially in Park Jinyoung, his old crush.Thank God those feelings are behind him, right?or: Jackson is pregnant. Jinyoung was an idiot about three years ago.  The rest of the guys are just excited to become uncles.
Relationships: Park Jinyoung/Jackson Wang
Comments: 342
Kudos: 285





	1. 7 weeks

**Author's Note:**

> title from CRJ's Fake Mona Lisa, a song about daring to fall in love, even when it's not the smartest thing to do.
> 
> unbeta'd because, well, have you ever tried rolling up to someone asking them to beta your kpop boy mpreg story? didn't think so. don't judge me.
> 
> this is a story about male pregnancy! i play fast and loose with reality here, and will handwave things if it helps the plot. we're just gonna have to live with that.

“So, what?” Jinyoung says, shifting the weight of his messenger bag on his shoulder, pressing the bridge of his thick-rimmed glasses higher on his nose, “He just... turned up?”

“Apparently,” Jaebeom shrugs, leaning back against the elevator wall right after he’d pressed the button to the floor of Youngjae’s apartment, “I don’t really know more than you do, we all got the same text.”

“I guess,” Jinyoung frowns, looking down at his feet, “It’s just - he’s not really had the time to visit us for almost a year, and then suddenly he just turnsup? Something’s weird.”

“Have your newspaper had you editing the conspiracy articles again?” Jaebeom snickers, reaching out to ruffle Jinyoung’s hair, with all the privilege an elder has. Jinyoung promptly kicks him in the chin in retaliation, which makes Jaebeom hiss, “Is it really that weird? Jackson has always been spontaneous. I thought you’d be glad to see him, he’s lived in Hong Kong full time for... what, almost three years now?”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung mutters as the arrival tone dings, “About three years.” The fact that he can name it down to, pretty much, the hour isn’t something he likes to talk about. He thinks it might make him look _sad_.

The thing is — he _is_ happy to see Jackson again. It’s been too long, way too long, and they’ve all been pretty busy since they all started threading their own paths after they ended their half-internships, half-proper jobs at JYP Entertainment. Most of them had stayed in Korea, even Bambam split his time between his growing fashion house in Bangkok and Seoul, but Jackson had left for Hong Kong barely a month after their last day. And while it had been kinda easy to keep in contact the first couple of months, anything more than a casual check-up had soon fallen by the wayside.

“Hyungs!” Yugyeom exclaims as he opens the door instead of Youngjae, throwing his arms around both their necks, “You’re here!”

“Yes, you invited us and we sent you a message two minutes ago saying we were outside,” Jinyoung deadpans while Yugyeom just laughs, tall and bright and bushy-haired.

“Jacks! Look who just arrived!” Yugyeom lowers his voice, “He’s feeling a bit under the weather,” He says in a theatrical whisper.

Jackson looks good anyway, under the weather or not, Jinyoung thinks as he sees Jackson’s head pop over the sofa with a small smile on his lips.

“Hey, Jinyoungie, hyung, long time no see,” Jackson says, raising an arm from where he’s laying tucked into Mark’s side and with his legs over Bambam’s legs. He’s — fuck — he’s _beautiful_ , still, with his sharp jaw and pink, quirked lips. His hair is a bit longer, copper-toned and swept back with one artful lock falling over his forehead (Jinyoung never managed to figure out if it’s on purpose or not) and still... devastating, in both a metaphorical and very real kind of way, “I’m sorry for not getting up, I’m not feeling great,”

“Long flight?” Jinyoung says, swallowing around the sudden burst of feeling at the sound of Jackson’s hoarse voice, as though his body is somehow instinctively reacting to something he’s been missing without realizing it.

“Yeah,” Jackson says, lips moving into a smile that looks more odd than anything else, “Yeah, sure.”

Jinyoung can see the way Mark is frowning slightly, the way Mark always does when he’s smelling bullshit, but he can also see the way Mark’s hand is curled protectively around Jackson’s bicep. Mark has always had a pretty good bullshit-radar when it comes to Jackson. He also has a massive soft spot for the man, so the radar is really only helpful half of the time.

“Hyungs!” Youngjae exclaims, coming from the kitchen carrying an assortment of snacks, “Welcome!” he starts to put down all the little bowls of snacks, “Can you believe it, Jackson’s back!”

“Jackson’s back!” Yugyeom repeats, looking so radiantly happy that it almost hurts to look at him. Jinyoung softens a bit, at that, because how could he not. Yugyeom _thrives_ when all of them are together, and he looks a little bit like a happy golden retriever radiating contentedness from where he’s perched on the sofa’s armrest.

“And, uh, Xiao Shu is he -” Bambam says with a quick glance over to Jinyoung, who uses all of his high school talents for drama in order to keep his face completely still, “- busy?”

Jackson makes a raw, low kind of sound. An honest kind of groan that is so quintessentially Jackson, Jackson who couldn’t hide from them even if he wanted to. There is a moment where Jinyoung swears that everyone is holding their breath. I mean, they could guess the answer to the question already. Xiao Shu and Jackson have been more or less connected by the hip ever since they started dating, and Jackson turning up without him kind of... tells a story.

“We - we broke up,” Jackson says, not looking at any of them, burrowing deeper into Mark’s lap. Mark’s hand, loosely curved, starts to stroke a pattern over Jackson’s skin, soft and comforting as they let the words rest into the air around them.

The happiness of Jackson being here isn’t dimmed, but it is made a bit weightier, a bit fuller, by the admission of why he’d turned up. Later, when it’s appropriate, they’ll feel content at the knowledge that Jackson came to them for comfort, even an entire country away. Which — admittedly — is a bit excessive, but Jackson always had a flair for the dramatic, so...

“What happened?” Yugyeom asks softly, his lips curved into an empathetic smile.

Jackson swallows, mouth working around the words. He stops, taking a breath, and Jinyoung and Mark kind of share a glance between them. They’re not in their early twenties anymore, so Jackson hasn’t been as devastatingly open as he used to be for years. But still, things... come easier to Jackson. He shares everything, good and bad. They wait until Jackson, in the end, clears his throat one last time.

“I’m pregnant.” he says, the words kind of rushing out of him and somehow managing to be ground out through his teeth at the same time, “I — I got pregnant, and that — ” Jackson looks down at his hands, “— uh, well, we disagreed on the next course of action.”

 _Oh_.

So. Maybe. Not. An overreaction then? To leave the entire country?

“I didn’t know you had the gene?” Jaebeom says because somehow that’s what he’s thinking about apparently. Maybe that’s what they’re all thinking about. Men with the capacity to get pregnant are _rare_ , if not necessarily unheard of. It’s a bit like finding out your friend has an extra nipple. It throws you for a loop, reassesses your world for a bit, but ultimately it is what it is.

“Me neither,” Jackson sighs, and for a moment he just looks... sad, small, and lonely. It aches, to see him like that, “Not until I started throwing up all the time two weeks ago,” Jackson grimaces, “And it’s... You know, even if you have the gene, you’re not necessarily _fertile_ , and A-Shu — ah — Xiao Shu was my first boyfriend, so we just... were lucky? That it hadn’t happened before?” Jackson’s grimace slips into a painful kind of smile, “But it did! Now! Right when A-Shu — _fuck_ — _Xiao_ Shu is releasing a new album and _really_ doesn’t need any type of scandal, or any —” Jackson groans, sinking deeper into the couch, seemingly only kept from being completely swallowed by it by Mark’s and Bambam’s presence on it with him, “— _mess_.” He says the last word so dejectedly every single person in the room kind of shifts their weight, in complete rejection of the notion that Jackson should say it like _that_. He might be a bit of a mess, but he’s _their_ mess. He’s always been _their_ mess, _fondly_ , not derogatory.

“... Have you talked to your parents?” Youngjae says, more carefully than he usually speaks.

“Yeah,” Jackson sighs, “Yeah, they’re supportive but he’s — he’s everywhere,” Jackson sweeps one arm out, in a slight return to theatrics, “He’s on billboards! He’s on the radio! His latest song, dedicated to me, by the way, was playing in my _corner_ store, just _there_ , on the little shitty radio next to auntie —” he stops himself, pouts, crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, “I... needed to get away, is the thing.”

“There are options, you know that, right?” Bambam places his hand against Jackson’s back, a soft little touch. Jackson gives his gentle little ‘only-for-Bambam-smile’ in return, and the rest of them pretends not to see it. Bambam is Jackson’s favorite, and Jackson is Bambam’s favorite, they just like to pretend as though that isn’t true even though it’s glaringly obvious.

“I know, Bam, but it’s okay. I decided to — well, look, I’m —” Jackson squares his jaw and takes a breath before bursting out, with a lot of cheer (not all of it false), “I’m keeping it!”

There is silence. It’s not necessarily heavy nor particularly awkward. They’ve known each other too long for that. But there is still _something_ to it, which is perhaps only natural, once one of your friends has told you that he’s not only pregnant but also keeping the child. Jackson looks at them, his eyes large and round in the way you always think you must be misremembering, because someone’s eyes _can’t_ be that big, but then realize that no, Jackson’s eyes really just do take up almost half his face. Jackson’s lips are quirked in an awkward, close-lipped half-smile.

“You can stay with me,” Jinyoung says, without really thinking about it, which is... new. He usually thinks a lot about things, _too_ much about things, some would even say, “I have an extra room.”

“We _all_ have extra rooms,” Bambam narrows his eyes, “You aren’t hogging Jackson-hyung all to yourself —”

“He’s, literally, allergic to fur,” Youngjae interjects, “I mean, at least for such a long exposure, and I can’t imagine that’d be good for the baby.”

“I can really stay with you, Jinyoungie?” Jackson says, and he sounds so small that Mark kind of instinctively tightens his hold on him and the rest of them move a bit closer, “Just for a while, until I’ve figured things out?”

Jackson blinks up at him, all large eyes and soft brown gaze, and Jinyoung clears his throat, speaks around the lump right there that refuses to dislodge.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course,” Jinyoung smiles, small and soft, “As long as you need.“

The smile Jackson gives is bright, big, and wide, his eyes crinkling into crescents. Before Jinyoung can do anything stupid, like profess his love to someone who just had their _heart_ broken, Jaebeom grabs his arm and kind of goes,

“We’ll get _drinks!_ ” and simply drags Jinyoung out of the living room and into Youngjae’s small kitchen with all the subtlety of a bull careening through a porcelain shop. Jinyoung tears his arm free, smooths the fabric of the front of his sweater down and narrows his eyes.

Jaebeom looks worried, a look that isn’t very good on him. Jinyoung will tell him that later when Jaebeom has spat out whatever it is he wants to say. Jaebeom is obviously struggling, and Jinyoung just raises an eyebrow as he turns around to the fridge to grab a couple of beers and two sodas.

“Are you going to be fine?” Jaebeom blurts out in the end and Jinyoung makes sure to slow his movements down a bit, making the wait for his answer just on the side of excruciatingly long.

“Why —” Jinyoung says, putting down the bottles of beer and soda on the counter with a bit more of a _clink_ than was perhaps expected, “— would I not be fine?” He finishes, tone so mild that Jaebeom actually kind of flinches.

But then Jaebeom reacts the way he mostly does when Jinyoung is being a bit of a shit, which is that he careens into stubborn, low-seething anger.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you’ve been _pining_ after him for three years?” Jaebeom says, a bit too loudly, which makes Jinyoung close the drawer from where he’s collecting the bottle opener with a bit more force than necessary, “Jinyoung -”

“It hasn’t been three years,” Jinyoung answers primly, pausing deliberately before muttering, “It’s been two years and seven months,” — and three weeks and two days (which he doesn’t say, because he does have a concept of, well, shame). Two years, seven months, three weeks, and two days since he realized that he’d been an _idiot_ to turn down Jackson’s gentle confession at the same moment he shook Jackson’s new boyfriend’s hand. Yeah, _that_ hadn’t been a very good day, if Jinyoung was completely honest.

“Jinyoung,” Jaebeom says, in a tone that suggests that he while Jinyoung hadn’t spoken the extra additions, Jaebeom had nonetheless _heard_ them in a more metaphorical, abstract kind of way, “Look, I can get my mom to take care of the cats for a while and he can stay with me instead, if that makes it easier for you.”

“You cried for an hour last time we left Nora at the vet for a night.”

“You saw the way she looked at me! She felt _betrayed_!” Jaebeom runs his hands through his hair, making it both messier and somehow more artfully disheveled at the same time, “I really don’t think this is a good idea —”

“Is it _wrong_ for me to want to help my pregnant friend?” Jinyoung says, low and under his breath, “Sure, I might be a bit —” he waves a hand in the air, “— for Jackson, but he’s my _friend_ first and foremost. He’s here. He needs help.” Jinyoung looks down at the bottles in his hands, as though they somehow hold the answer to the swell of constricted feelings in his chest, at the low ache of a wound he’s been trying to work around for the last two years, seven months, three weeks and two days, “I want to help.”

Jinyoung swallows, thinks about Jackson’s large, brown eyes and his hoarse voice, unprecedentedly soft, going; _we disagreed on the next course of action_. When he looks up, Jaebeom is looking at him with a rather extraordinary amount of pity written across his entire face, down to every strand of his stupid mullet.

“You’re so fucked, Jinyoung-ah,” Jaebeom says, a lot softer than he really should, because that softness might fool someone into thinking he _cares_.

Jinyoung doesn’t say anything about that. How could he? You can’t really argue with truth, can you?

So instead of doing that, Jinyoung just sends Jaebeom a last glare, which doesn’t seem to phase the man at all (Jinyoung _knew_ he should’ve been more sparse with them when they were younger, now Jaebeom has built up an immunity), and walks back out, with drinks in hand.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna have to look up babyproofing,” Yugyeom says, gone from his seat on the armrest to being curled on the couch together with Jackson, barely fitting as it is, especially since neither Mark nor Bambam has moved, and Youngjae has managed to squeeze himself down somewhere next to Mark as well, “Wait, what about Dalkyum? How do babies and dogs get along?”

“Nora’s great with kids,” Jaebeom says smugly, walking past Jinyoung to place some drinks on the table.

“Nora bites everyone, hyung,” Youngjae sighs.

“She teaches boundaries. That’s good, for kids _and —_ ” Jaebeom says, looking at Yugyeom who just grins back, “— everyone else.”

“We’re gonna be _uncles_ ,” Mark says, sounding a bit thick-voiced, smiling down at Jackson, almost completely hidden by the cuddle pile gathering around him.

”And I’m going to be the best one,” Bambam says, tapping a finger against Jackson’s calf, “This is a battle I will not lose. I have everything going for me. I’m tall, I smell _great_ ,” He sticks out his wrist to Yugyeom who dutifully sniffs and confirms, “I _only_ wear high-quality fabrics so I’m _literally_ soft —”

“You’ll lose the baby. You’ll forget it on, like, the bus. Like in a _sitcom_.” Mark intones, as Youngjae makes a small noise of agreement and Bambam reaches over to try and smack at him.

“I will not _lose_ the baby! I absolutely will _not_ lose the baby, Jackson-hyung, don’t believe such _slander_ —” Bambam says, affronted, when a small, Jackson-hoarse sound kind of makes them stop. Jackson has the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes.

“... Are you crying, hyung?” Youngjae says softly, reaching over Mark to pet a bit at Jackson’s hair.

“No,” Jackson says, voice slightly garbled, definitely crying.

Youngjae pets Jackson’s hair soothingly while Yugyeom slings an arm around Jackson’s middle, pulling him closer and Bambam soothes a hand down Jackson’s calf. After a few inhales, a couple of sniffles, Jackson wipes his eyes and starts talking, his eyes warm and wet, his smile growing larger.

“Guys, I can’t even start to —” he stops, his face suddenly twisting into a pale grimace, “— move _, now_ —” he shoves so hard at Yugyeom that he yelps as he falls to the floor in a tumble of flailing limbs. Jackson stumbles over him with a hand over his mouth, tearing into the bathroom and soon after that follows heaving, retching sounds.

They all kind of look at each other, trying to figure out exactly what the decorum is for something like this. Do they... pretend not to hear it? Do they go cheer him on? Do they...

“He’s... gonna want water? Right? After that?” Yugyeom winces as there is another wet, gasping heave from the bathroom.

“I’ll get it,” Jinyoung sighs, pointedly ignoring Jaebeom’s low mutter of _offer still stands_ when he passes him.

Everything will work out just _fine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what better way to kick in 2021 than a story about mpreg, right?
> 
> look, i've had two sisters that have used me as a crutch during four pregnancies, i have way too much funny anecdotes about pregnancy to _not_ use 'em. 
> 
> these chapters will be short, at least in the beginning. there will be no real plot other than, well, get jackson from week 7 of pregnancy to birth, because i need a bit of a break from the more plot-heavy kinds of things i've been writing this last month. so this will just be a bit of fun, short chapters detailing scenes of a pregnancy. while living with your crush. who also crushes on you. and neither of you do something about it. it'll be great, guys.
> 
> i have a buffert of about three chapters, so i plan to post the next one in just a couple of days and keep a pretty rapid update schedule.
> 
> please leave comments if you like the story! it helps my motivation endlessly!
> 
> BUT HEY if you wanna hang out and talk, feel free to follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) I also have a CC linked if you wanna ask me questions, and I'm always game to do little fun trivia pieces if someone asks me too.
> 
> happy new year! i love you. take care of yourself, and stay safe <3<3<3


	2. 8 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

Honestly, if Jackson thinks back on it, things could’ve gone a lot worse. It’s not that Jackson thought that he’d be thrown out on the streets or anything, but, like... He might’ve gotten stuck in a bit of a loop for a while there on the flight over, going down some questionable Weibo threads, so he had... Well, he’s not entirely sure what he’d expected, but he’d expected it to be _harder_ , somehow, to convince the guys that he was worth caring about, still, even after having been _shit_ at keeping in touch for the last year. But then it had just... worked. Exceeded his expectations, really.

Moving in with Jinyoung had been more than he’d expected. He’d hoped to maybe crash on Youngjae’s couch for a week until he could find a hotel with a more long-term solution than renting night by night. He hadn’t even entertained the thought of being invited to live in Jinyoung’s apartment, more or less guaranteed to take up his guest room for a solid _year_. Especially not after — well — all the _stuff_ that went down before Jackson left for Hong Kong three years ago.

Jackson is unpacking a couple of the items his parents had sent over with express shipping. He keeps most of the things in his room, like the blanket he loves (and still smells of a-Shu, but he won’t — he won’t tell anyone that, it’ll be his little secret), but he also has some spices, some chili paste and myriads of tea leaves that he would like to keep out in the kitchen, because... that’s where things like that go and Jackson likes to have at least some semblance of order in his spice cabinet when he can’t have some order in his private life. Well, he could at least _ask_ Jinyoung, right?

“Hey, Jinyoungie —” Jackson says, stepping into the kitchen with the carton of kitchen stuff in his hands, clearing his throat as he looks over at Jinyoung, cooking on the stove, “— is it okay if I put a couple of things in the pantry? Like, it’s just some spices and stuff.”

“Yes, it’s perfectly alright,” Jinyoung says, smiling over his shoulder. _Ah, still so handsome, Jinyoungie,_ Jackson thinks but doesn’t say (they have to talk first before he can make jokes like that again). Jackson smiles, stops himself from doing something weird like a bow, and goes to unload a couple of the things he has. He puts everything in its place, or at least where it _seems_ like it should be their place. Jinyoung still hasn’t learned the joy of a well-organized storage from the looks of it, so when Jackson starts putting the little sauces away, he kind of... has to start moving stuff around. So, he clears his throat again, because one should ask before moving things around in a home where one is a guest.

“Jinyoungie, is it okay if I move some stuff around in your pantry? I just have some things that won’t fit otherwise and —”

“Of course it’s okay, Jackson-ah,” Jinyoung smiles, this time furrowing his brow a bit as he looks back curiously, “Move around whatever you need to.”

Jackson takes a breath, feeling on edge and not really knowing why. Jinyoung has been nothing but welcoming, nothing but kind and steady, and Jackson _wants_ to feel more at home, but he... Look, there is history between them, or, well, if he’s _honest,_ there’s history from _Jackson_ to Jinyoung, and they never really talked about it three years ago, and now it just feels like he’s doing something wrong. What if Jinyoung thinks Jackson is still in love with him? What if he’s scared that Jackson won’t be able to keep himself in check? What if —

The whirring thoughts make so that he almost drops the bottle he’s holding, and he yelps when it starts to slip out of his grasp, and he quickly solidifies his grip on the object in question. He blinks, looks down at the bottle of rice wine, and thinks _huh, this isn’t the brand I like, why_ —

The memory hits him like a truck. It’d been right at the beginning of his and a-Shu’s relationship when Jackson had decided to try and pretend like he could cook something more complicated than an omelet and he had prepared everything down to the last detail. Except for rice wine, for some reason. He had _panicked_ when he’d realized it because who doesn’t have _mirin_ at home? A good boyfriend, who had the potential of being something _more_ than just a fling, would _certainly_ have rice wine, and Jackson _didn’t_. When a-Shu had come over, meeting a distraught Jackson, he had immediately turned on his heel, gone out, into the pouring rain, to buy a bottle. He had come home, carrying the bottle of rice wine like a trophy, presented it to Jackson like a war-prize, and Jackson had dried his tears on his sleeves and thought _oh_ , _i could love this man for the rest of my life_.

He rubs a thumb over the label, slightly frayed at the corner. He’d kept it for almost three years. He’d kept it, because — _oh_. 

“Jackson-ah,” Jinyoung says, carefully, sounding as though it’s not the first time he says it, his hand hovering somewhere over Jackson’s shoulder, “Are you hurt? Do you need —”

“I love him — I love him so _much_ ,” Jackson says, his hands tight around the bottle and its memories, the fraying edges of its label, feeling the hot sting of tears as they well up in his eyes, “I - I thought it’d be _us_ , forever, I thought —” and then he, to his horror, starts to _cry_. The first proper sob tears out of him, and lifting a hand to his mouth to muffle it would mean letting go of the bottle, and Jackson would rather throw himself out a window than in any way, shape, or form let go of the bottle in his hands. So instead he just curls in on himself, clutching the bottle tight, and sobs again, his throat hurting, restricting around the sounds.

And then he’s enveloped in a strong, warm embrace, tucked underneath Jinyoung’s chin — even though Jackson’s really a bit too tall for such a maneuver — as Jinyoung strokes his back, murmuring softly underneath his breath.

It’s as though the anger, the shock, the deep-seated betrayal that has been lodged like a thorn against his heart ever since a-Shu had taken his hand, held it as though he hadn’t wanted to let go, but said _i’m sorry a-jia, i’m so sorry, but i can’t do it, not now, maybe not ever_ is suddenly knocked loose, and he can finally let himself _grieve_.

“Three years!” Jackson sobs into Jinyoung’s expensive sweater, probably getting snot all over it, “ _Three_ years!” He tears himself away from Jinyoung’s arms, glaring at the bottle in his hands through the tears. He can almost physically _feel_ how ugly he is right now, red-faced and messy, but he doesn’t _care_ , “If you weren’t ready after three years, then _when_ , huh?” Jackson wrings his hands around the bottle tightly and Jinyoung is speaking, softly but rapidly, next to him probably about, like, how Jackson shouldn’t be sitting on the floor crying over a bottle of corner-store rice wine but _fuck you_ , Park Jinyoung, Jackson knows _exactly_ what he needs to do.

In a fit of anger, _righteous_ fucking anger, Jackson pushes Jinyoung away and then hurls the bottle against the floor, watching it shatter against the ground. He feels victorious, viciously victorious, for about three seconds. And then —

Oh my God... _oh hey, Jinyoung, is it okay if I break a_ glass bottle _on your floor huh? How about that? That’s reasonable behavior, right?_

“Shit,” Jackson says, still crying and sobbing, “ _Fuck_ , I’m so sorry —” he sobs, wipes at his face with his sleeve, “— I’m so sorry, Jinyoungie, I’ll clean it up, it won’t —” he looks around for some paper towels, the tears not really helping with his already bad eye-sight. Jinyoung kind of grabs his shoulders and shakes him a bit, his eyes larger than Jackson had ever seen them, a far cry from his usually hooded gaze. Jackson pulls in a shuddering breath, blinking as more tears just continue to fall.

“Seun-ah, _please_ , it’s okay,” Jinyoung says, his eyes wide behind his glasses, and he looks so — he looks so _lost_ , so _panicked_ that Jackson can’t help but start sobbing again, which makes Jinyoung rub his hands up and down Jackson’s arms, “Look, let’s just... go sit down, for a bit, okay? Let’s take a little break —”

“I have to clean up,” Jackson says, his voice coming out low and wheezy, still twisting around shattered sobs, “You were _cooking_.”

“And I can start cooking again, later, when we’re feeling better,” _we_ , Jackson thinks hazily, through the dam of anger, sadness, and betrayal that churns through his blood, _why we?_ Jinyoung pats his hand as he leads Jackson to the sofa, carefully maneuvering him to sit down, “Here, let’s sit you down, okay, great, Seun-ah, you’re doing _great_ —”

“I am _not_ ,” Jackson snivels, continuing to wipe away his tears with his sleeve which by this point doesn’t help, because it’s pretty much all tears and snot covering the knitted fabric, “Don’t _lie_ to me!”

“I - I’m getting you a glass of water, is there anything —”

“The blanket, in my room,” Jackson manages to get out between shuddering sobs, curling up on the sofa, “I want the blanket.”

“Okay, yeah, I can do that, one second —”

Jackson is left alone and God, he has never felt so alone in his _life_ , he’s the only person who has ever felt this much pain, this much heartache, no one else has any _idea_ what they’re talking about when they talk about _pain_.

And then there is the soft, fluffy weight of the blanket a-Shu got him once just because Jackson had been cold at the airport, and a-Shu was always all about pragmatic solutions, and Jackson loved that about him, loved it about him so _much_. Jackson’s hands curl into the blanket as he nuzzles into it, breathing in the lingering traces of a-Shu’s favorite cologne, and he feels it soothe something inside him, soothes something that misses and aches and loves even through the anger and sadness. And then there is a soft, wet towel gently pressed over his face, cleaning away all the snot and tears, and when Jackson blinks, he sees the outline of Jinyoung next to him, and the traces of his slightly harried smile. Jackson’s eyesight is such a _joke_ , but it doesn’t really matter, because Jinyoung’s hands — Jinyoung’s hands are very gentle.

A cold glass of water is pressed into his hands and Jackson wraps his hands around it, presses it against his forehead first, humming at the gentle soothe of cold against his flushed, hot skin. He takes a large gulp of water, feeling it loosen a bit of the tightness in his throat and chest that seemed to make it almost impossible for anything other than sadness to escape him.

With a last, shuddering, heaving breath, Jackson starts to feel his feelings subside. They aren’t gone, not at all, but they... become manageable. A bit more traceable, a bit less abstract and frightening.

Jackson sniffs, which means that he gets a noseful of the smell of mirin, still lingering on his hands, but instead of making him sad again he kind of rolls into —

It’s _funny_ , in a way, isn’t it? Here he is, pregnant, in _Korea_ , in his old-crush-and-maybe-still-best-friend’s apartment, smelling like _mirin_ of all things, begging for a blanket like a _child_... That’s some _quality_ comedy, though, isn’t it?

He snorts, giggles through the last lingering sobs, and looks to Jinyoung who is staring at him with concern.

“I smell like mirin,” Jackson says, as an explanation, and when Jinyoung just looks _more_ flabbergasted, Jackson bursts into real, hoarse laughter, and when those giggles subside, he finally feels... better. 

He groans, leans his head against Jinyoung’s shoulder, taking a deep, cleansing breath, “I have a headache.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says softly, “Yeah, I can imagine.”

“I’m a _mess_ ,” Jackson grumbles, taking another sip of water, “No need to worry, I’ll try to get out of your hair as soon as possible, I just have to find a hotel or something —”

“Seun-ah,” Jinyoung says, and he takes Jackson’s hands, tugs at them until Jackson is blinking up into Jinyoung’s face. Thing is, Jackson’s sight is still a bit blurry, so he can’t really _see_ Jinyoung all that well, but he... he knows Jinyoung well enough to construct an image, a finished rendering of the slightly blurry figure in front of him. Jinyoung has softened a bit from when they were young, looking older and steadier. More secure. He’s grown into his skin, and all the thousand little features that make sure that his classically handsome face is not just classic, but all _Jinyoung_. Like his adorable ears and his slightly wooden gaze.

Oh, how Jackson had loved him once. Had loved him enough to put his entire heart out there, stammering a confession over a shared coffee. Jinyoung’s bemused answer of _uh, thanks? I guess?_ _but... no?_ had quickly shattered _those_ dreams. It was okay though, no one _has_ to love you back just because you love them. Jackson still loves him. As a friend. And Jinyoung still _likes_ him, at least, as a friend. It worked out. Kind of.

“Seun-ah, are you listening to me?” Jinyoung says, leaning forward, smelling like coffee and chai, which is a really good, nice scent, “I was telling you that it’s _okay_. Don’t — go anywhere, okay? Bambam looked it up on the internet, and Jaebeom bought like, five books, and they all say that male pregnancies tend to be on the rougher end of a pregnancy, okay? It’d really calm me —” Jinyoung clears his throat, “— _us_ down if you would stay close.”

“You bought books?” Jackson says, furrowing his brow, “Should _I_ have bought books? Am I already —”

“We _want_ to help, Jackson-ah,” Jinyoung says, leaning forward until their foreheads touch and — oh, Jackson had missed this. The easy skinship that had almost completely disappeared after his confession. He’d mourned the loss of it and the return... oh, it makes something soft spread inside him, “ _Let_ us.”

Jackson takes another breath, breathes in, and out, and nods, “Okay. Okay, let’s... let’s try that.” He smiles, a bit shakily, but he watches, blurrily, as Jinyoung’s entire face follows his lead, shifting into his lovely, crinkly-eyed smile, Jackson leans forward, tightens his fingers around Jinyoung’s, their fingers intertwined, “But I really _do_ want to clean up the mess I made.”

“We’ll do it together,” Jinyoung says, running a thumb under his eye, the touch so devastatingly gentle that it shakes Jackson a bit and Jackson nods, closing his eyes, taking a breath.

_Yeah. Alright. Together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what a mess huh? 
> 
> this story is inspired of when my pregnant sister found a dead bug on the floor and had a full mental break-down about it at 3am in the morning (she felt sorry for the bug). i'd argue that jackson has a better reason for his outburst, but my sister would kill me, so i just... i'll just say the inspiration for the story and leave.
> 
> next chapter should be up in a few days!
> 
> please leave reviews if you like the story, it helps the inspiration a lot, and this story really is something new for me. so. uwu? as the kids say.
> 
> if you wanna hang out and talk, feel free to follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) I also have a CC linked if you wanna ask me questions, and I'm always game to do little fun trivia pieces if someone asks me too.
> 
> and thank you, so much, for reading! i really hope you liked it! take care of yourselves!!! <3<3<3<3


	3. 9 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.
> 
> TW: food and discussions of an eating disorder. It permeates the entire chapter, so if it triggers you, please wait until the next chapter and skip this one. Take care of yourself first <3

Youngjae squints, looking a bit closer at Jackson, who is holding his mouth open with two fingers, “I don’t see it, hyung, your gums look fine to me.”

“Well, they’re _not_ ,” Jackson says, sucking in a bit of spit as he releases the corners of his mouths, pouting as he frowns down at the food in front of him, a bun-less mozzarella burger with the salad on the side, “They’ve been bleeding like crazy, and all I can taste is iron, which —” doesn’t _help_ the burger in front of him. He loves mozzarella, but for some reason, the food in front of him looks unappetizing and Jackson doesn’t know _why_. He’s _ravenous_. He’s barely two hours away from his breakfast and _still_ —

He pokes at his burger. The cheese jiggles slightly. He sighs mournfully.

“Not hungry anymore?” Youngjae asks, digging into his own food. He seems to catch the bluntness of his words, especially considering they all kind of know how Jackson feels about his body when the thoughts catch him sideways and quickly backpedals, “Or, uh, I mean, more like, did you want to —”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Jackson whines, sinking down in his seat, feeling both devastatingly hungry and slightly nauseous, “I just want —” he wants carbs, _loads_ of them, a _massive_ amount of carbs, a truly _insane_ amount. He wants someone to drive a truck of mashed potatoes straight into the diner they’re sitting in, hand Jackson a spoon, and go _we all believe in you, you must eat the entire thing, the nation’s safety is in your hands_. Instead of saying that, or even finishing his sentence, Jackson kind of grunts, moving to lay his head on the table. When he does so, he finds Youngjae's hand there instead of fake wood, making sure that Jackson’s forehead doesn’t touch the surface.

It’s very sweet. Jackson likes Youngjae a lot, even though he once sewed every single pants leg of Jackson’s shut so that Jackson had to do his end of the year presentation wearing leopard jeggings. Jackson would like Youngjae even more if he was, like, just a fry. It’s almost inconsiderate of him _not_ to be a fry, honestly. Even _more_ inconsiderate of him to be actively _eating_ fries, right in front of Jackson’s salad.

“Do you... want some of mine?” Youngjae asks, carefully pushing his plate towards Jackson. Jackson doesn't look up from where his forehead is resting on the table, instead just groaning and pushing his forehead deeper into Youngjae's hand.

"Yes?" Jackson says, frowning, before groaning and leaning back to stare balefully up at the ceiling, " _No,_ I do not want it," He looks at Youngjae, and even Jackson himself can feel the size of his eyes as he widens them in the very image of mournfulness, "It breaks my diet," he adds, trying to avoid eye contact with both Youngjae and his fries.

"You're pregnant?" Youngjae says, as though Jackson has somehow forgotten that, with the constant morning sickness and weird cravings. When Jackson sends an unimpressed glare at Youngjae, Youngjae just kind of sighs, "I _mean:_ you're pregnant, are you really going to diet?"

"I'm not just _doing_ it!" Jackson huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, "I talked to a dietitian, we made a plan, I'm not going to risk anything." He swallows, looking down at his stomach. It's not really noticeable yet, not underneath his clothes, but he can see it when he's not wearing a shirt. There is a gentle little swell of his previously completely flat stomach, the gentle hill of it set low. When he'd showed Jinyoung, the man hadn't been nearly as impressed, hurrying away to work almost immediately after seeing it, but whatever. Jackson can understand why work would be more important than his friend's tiny, barely-there baby bump, "I just... It's important to me."

Youngjae hums a bit at that, putting a fry into his mouth, Jackson tracking the movement as though Youngjae is eating gold, "But if you want fries, then maybe —"

"I do want fries! I want to eat your entire plate of fries, porcelain, and everything! But I don't _want_ to want it." Jackson blinks, and he feels like crying again, which is — _God_ , is this going to be his life now? Wanting things he doesn't want to want and crying over things like _fries_ and _mirin_? He bites his lip, curls up a bit on the diner sofa, and stares down at the floor.

He hears Youngjae kind of sigh, and then Youngjae's brash voice, just a bit too loud even when he softens it. Jackson loves Youngjae's voice, has loved it ever since the first time they want to karaoke almost nine years ago and Youngjae had done one of the most beautiful renditions of _Santa baby_ that Jackson has heard _to this day_ , "Okay, let's — let's talk about this," Youngjae clears his throat, "What's really going on?"

Jackson thinks about dragging it out longer, but Youngjae isn't the most satisfactory person to do that too. He's not Jaebeom, who gets so flustered he just starts giving Jackson things at a certain point, nor is he Mark who will quietly offer to make everything better. Which, maybe, is for the best, "I feel like I'm being taken over," Jackson mutters underneath his breath, "I can't use my ordinary cologne, because somehow my body has decided to _physically_ reject it, I wake up every morning _vomiting_ , I — I want to eat unhealthy things, constantly, even though I _don't_ want to —" the last thing is hard to admit to, because... Jackson can hear the slight stirring of old thoughts in those words. Thoughts from years ago, when he'd bargained with himself over every bite of food. _That’s_ gone now, mostly, but the thing with having issues with food is that it never _really_ goes away. You just... rewire yourself around them, trying to make the thoughts healthier, kinder, better. A-Shu was always so good at it, with him, always so good at making Jackson feel loved when those thoughts resurfaced, and even better at banishing them. Jackson sniffles.

"Hi, excuse me?" he hears Youngjae call out to one of the waitresses, who stops and looks over to them, "I'd really like a couple of more things from the menu, would you mind bringing it over? Thanks!" Jackson blinks at him, and Youngjae just smiles at him, the big and broad kind of smile that makes Jackson smile back in a purely instinctive reaction.

"I am not going to pretend to know what you're going through," Youngjae says, reaching across the table to take Jackson's hand, "But I can understand why you'd feel like that, feel as though there is something..." he makes a small motion with the hand not currently holding Jackson's, "But that's because there kind of _is_ , isn't there?" Youngjae strokes a thumb over the back of Jackson's hand, "You're _pregnant_. Of course you're going to change, because of that."

"But —" Jackson starts because he feels like he wants to argue the point without really arguing it. He _knows_ that. He knows that things are going to change, and he knows that things _should_ change, but — it's hard, being confronted with the reality of it, with the reality of how your life is never going to be the same. In the last week, especially when he's been staring at his stomach, at the little swell, barely big enough to be covered by his hand, he's felt as though he's standing in front of a crossroads. His old life on one side, a life that he _knows_ , and a new life on the other. He doesn't even know if it's going to be better. He just knows it's going to be something.

"And we'll love you still, when you _do_ change," Youngjae says decisively, and Jackson feels something come loose, feels a tension in his shoulders wire tighter in reaction to a realization. Because _that's_ it, isn't it?

"A-Shu didn't," Jackson says, voice low and tight, "A-Shu —"

“Xiao Shu —” Youngjae says, with an eerily calm kind of tone, "— is an idiot," Youngjae finishes firmly, a bit too loudly, the way Youngjae sometimes speaks. As though if he talks loudly enough, laughs brightly enough, the world will just change around his voice to make whatever he is saying _true_.

"He wasn't —"

"He _is_ ," Youngjae says even firmer, smiling at the waitress as she comes over with the menu, "Okay, I'm going to order a couple of things, and they're _all_ for me, but —" he looks over at Jackson, smiling slightly, "— but when it comes over, you're probably going to have to help me finish it."

"Youngjae..." Jackson starts, feeling a bit tight around the throat. He sits there, quietly, as Youngjae orders a frankly alarming amount of food.

"Please, Jackson-hyung," Youngjae smiles, "For my sake? I _hate_ seeing food going to waste."

"Hi, guys! I'm sorry I'm late," Yugyeom smiles as he sits down, all long legs and bright smile, and it's fascinating because Jackson has seen Yugyeom complete the most excruciatingly detailed choreography perfectly, but despite that, the man always seems just on the cusp of falling over, "What are we doing?"

"We're eating fries," Youngjae says, giving a big grin, "I accidentally ordered too much."

"Sweet!" Yugyeom exclaims, rubbing his hands together, "Can't wait!" He leans over the table, barely having to stand up on account of his freakishly long torso, and looks down at Jackson’s stomach, "Hi baby!" he says brightly, picking up one of the menus.

Jackson doesn’t speak for a little bit after that, because he’s not sure what to say, nor how to frame it in a way that isn’t just a long, blubbering declaration of embarrassing feelings. Instead, he reaches over, takes one fry from Youngjae’s plate, and bites into it decisively. Youngjae smiles as though he’s proud of him. And if he’s completely honest, Jackson is proud of _himself_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i sincerely doubt that any idol has a truly, fully healthy relationship with their body or food in general, but jackson's way of talking about himself and the way he keeps himself in check resonates with me and my own... difficult relationship with food. and it was a huge part of my oldest sisters first pregnancy, because it was unexpected, and how difficult it was for her to reconcile herself with needing to change the way she ate to accommodate this new thing. pregnancies are wild, dude.
> 
> this is a short and sweet little chapter, and there will be a couple of these. i am really trying not to feel bad about publishing small chapters, since that was kind of the premise of this entire fic but you know how it is.
> 
> please leave a review if you like this story! the fantastic response to this story makes me insanely happy, because i had no idea people wanted to read this. i am really trying to... make a cute little story, you know? it's endlessly motivating to know that people are reading and responding to the story.
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions or prompt me, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	4. 12 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.
> 
> trigger warning: slight mention of jackson's previous, fictional eating disorder. i think this is safer to read than the last one, but i still want to add a warning.

When Jinyoung comes out from his room, yawning and scratching his stomach over his t-shirt, he finds Jackson in front of the full-body mirror in the living room. Jackson is shirtless, his muscular back cast in the sunlight coming in through the large, three-piece windows. He is looking at himself, frowning as he tilts his head this side and that, his hands slowly sliding over the curve of his waist, the cut of his hip.

Jinyoung could stand and look for a while, but the sight concerns him enough to pull him out of the slightly awestruck mood he always falls into when seeing Jackson's skin in gentle, unguarded moments like these.

The reason for his concern is because it's not the first time Jinyoung sees him looking in the mirror like this, it hasn't been the first time during their friendship. Most of the time it's just... it's just Jackson being who he is, a bit vain, extremely self-critical, and a fan of large mirrors. But sometimes, it's bigger, worse, and shows the potential of Jackson gliding back into the mindset of food having to be earned rather than continually consumed, where food becomes both reward and punishment.

Jinyoung quickly pulls out his phone, murmuring a _good morning_ as he slinks into the kitchen, already typing out a message.

**Jinyoung**

He's been staring in the mirror a lot lately.

**Jaebeom**

vain

**Bambam**

we did once try to alleviate his loneliness when we all moved into our own places by giving him a bigger mirror

and it worked

**Jinyoung**

Well, yes, you are right about that, but he's frowning. A lot.

**Yugyeom**

d y think hes falling back into his thng with food?

**Youngjae**

it's possible! we had a conversation like that a couple of weeks ago but i thought it’d gotten better...

**Jinyoung**

Should I... do something?

**Jaebeom**

the books say that you should act supportive and validate the feelings without giving them the value of true or false, just as feelings that exist. no diminishing.

**Bambam**

im checking out a mommy forum as we speak they should know what to do

**Mark**

Mommy forums? those are weird, dude

**Bambam**

i used to hang out on the sims board on 4chan

nothing scares me

And so, a couple of minutes later, armed with a script of sorts they all quickly workshopped in a shared Google Docs, Jinyoung goes into the living room where Jackson is standing in front of the mirror.

Jackson is standing right where Jinyoung left him, in front of the mirror, his brow slightly furrowed, his lips slightly tense. He's cupping the small, gentle swell of his stomach with his hands, not noticeable at all when he's wearing clothes but all there when he's not. He's a little... softer, in general. Jackson has always been the picture of athleticism, and he still is, with his broad, strong shoulders and well-defined muscles, but his body is slowly starting to accommodate something new, and it makes him... gentler looking. There is just a little bit of fat gathering on his hips and over his thighs. Jinyoung, for a second, has the flash thought of Jackson a couple of months from now, heavier, his hand resting on a larger belly — Jinyoung shakes his head, forcibly dragging himself away from the thought to focus on the matter at hand. _What was that_ , he thinks, frowning, before clearing his throat.

Jackson looks up at him by way of the mirror, blinking heavily the way he usually does when he has to try and focus on something new because of his bad eyesight. It's an endearing sight, and it's had a tight grip on Jinyoung's heart since long before he realized that he might be just a little bit in love with Jackson, which sadly was about three months after he’d denied Jackson’s confession. Life, huh?

"Jinyoungie?"

"Jackson," Jinyoung starts, staring perhaps a bit too intensely on the script on his phone, and so he looks up, makes sure to make eye-contact before glancing back down at his phone, "How are you feeling?"

"Uh —" Jackson says, furrowing his brow further, which makes Jinyoung just... gear ahead, full speed.

"I've noticed that you've been looking in the mirror a lot lately," he reads, looking up to catch Jackson's slightly perplexed gaze before looking down again, "And while I don't want to give the impression that what you are doing is somehow unnatural or wrong, I simply want to check in on your mood and see if there is something that might be wrong," He takes a breath, stops reading from the phone, smiles a bit as he meets Jackson's eyes and does not read from his script over the next few words, "And because I forgot to tell you that you are looking very handsome today."

Jackson smiles at that, still looking a bit perplexed, but the smile is _something_ , "Uh, thanks, Jinyoungie, but —"

Jinyoung cuts him off again, steps forward and takes Jackson's hands in his, catches his gaze with his eyes, and carefully holds it as he continues speaking.

“You know, being pregnant means a changing body, and change can be difficult. And difficult times can lead to difficult thoughts, where one might not feel at the top of the world all the time. Me, and the others, hope that you feel comfortable with us so that you can ask us for help and support during this time of change and growth.”

“Jinyoungie -”’

“Because no matter what, we support you and your decisions," Jinyoung smiles as Jackson raises an eyebrow, looking a bit exasperated for seemingly no reason at all, "Even Bambam has promised not to be too much of a shit, and while we can’t really get Youngjae to promise anything — you know how he is — he has kinda promised to kill anyone who looks at you wrong which is, I think, as good as it could get —"

“Jinyoung _-ah_!” Jackson interjects loudly as he puts his hand over Jinyoung's mouth, "Thank you, but it's okay, that's not it."

“It's... not?” Jinyoung says, furrowing his brow, removing Jackson's hand from his lips and holding onto it for just a bit too long, "Then why —" he says, waving at Jackson's shirtless frame.

Jackson sighs, turning back to the mirror, cupping his hands over his stomach again, over the little swell of a thing that breaks the line of his flat abdomen in a way that Jinyoung finds so charming that he doesn't really dare to touch the thought of it in fear what he'll find underneath that particular impulse.

“Do you think my stomach points up or down?” Jackson says, seriously, looking back at Jinyoung over his shoulder, and it's a question Jinyoung had never expected to hear, so he kind of struggles to understand the words for a second, as though Jackson had somehow spoken a different language.

“.... What?” Jinyoung says to that because even though he has now deciphered the words, he still doesn't really know what they mean.

“Mom told me that she knew I was going to be a boy from the way her stomach was heavier in the bottom, kind of pointing downwards?" Jackson says, turning to look at his stomach from the side, tilting his head and kind of running his hand under the roundness, as though trying to feel the weight of it, "And it’s still really early, I know, but —” Jackson sighs, and this time he runs his hand over his stomach in such a gentle, careful little gesture, his fingers curling over the growing swell that Jinyoung basically forgets to breathe point and has to actively force himself to take another breath, “— I think it’s not? Like, it's not heavier, I think. Does that mean it’s a girl?”

“I can’t really see the difference?” Jinyoung says, swallowing as he looks at the way Jackson's hand rests on his belly, tearing his eyes away from it and smiling at Jackson who hasn't noticed, on account of him still looking in the mirror. When Jinyoung says that, though, Jackson makes a small thoughtful noise in the back of his throat and takes Jinyoung's hand and presses it over his stomach, looking down at both their hands as he does so.

Jinyoung, who has suddenly forgotten how to stand like a normal person, stands there stiffly, his hand gently curving over the swell of Jackson’s stomach, over Jackson’s warm, tan skin and the line of hair dusted over it. Jackson looks up at him seriously, and Jinyoung seriously, _seriously_ , Can Not Breathe. It takes two tries for the words to come out, and it's after he wets his dry mouth the second time that he actually manages _words_.

“I — I don’t know?” Jinyoung says, feeling as though he is touching the heat of a fire through the protective haze of something very dangerous, something he can not really name yet.

“It’s too early, I should've listened to mom,” Jackson sighs after a short pause, shaking his head as he gives a small smile, his full lips twitching into a quirked, mischievous little smile, “Besides, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I'll love it regardless, but, like, sometimes this feels... unreal, and I just... wanna know more about it, you know?” He looks down at his stomach as his thumb strokes over the back of Jinyoung's hand, "Wanted to make it more _real_."

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says, voice still dry and a bit difficult to force out, but his entire heart and soul feeling very soft, as though flayed open and bared. And so, he stands there with his hand on Jackson’s stomach, Jackson’s hand on his, and answers, “Yeah, yeah, I get it. It feels a bit unreal for me too, sometimes.“

Jackson gives a soft little smile that Jinyoung can do nothing else to except return. When Jackson lets go of his hand, giving Jinyoung no further reason to keep it there, Jinyoung feels the loss almost like a physical blow. Jackson raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering down to the phone gripped tight in Jinyoung's other hand, his mischievous smile growing wider.

"Nice speech though," he says, stepping a bit closer to Jinyoung and grinning wide, "Did you have a script?"

"Of course not," Jinyoung says hastily, shoving his phone down into his pocket. Jackson snorts.

“Are you lying to me?”

“... maybe?" Jinyoung answers, grinning right back as Jackson starts to laugh, reaching out to touch Jinyoung's forearm.

"You guys are _sweet_!" Jackson shakes his head, mirth held in every line of his body, but then his eyes kind of narrow and he looks at Jinyoung with narrowed eyes, “But you _can_ tell Bambam to stop sending me links about lactation! I’m not ready to think about that yet!" Jackson mutters something under his breath before continuing his rant, "I don’t care if there’s a competition to see how long you can jet a stream of milk, I am not _there_ in my process to think about such things yet!”

Jinyoung blinks, opens his mouth to ask — well, anything really, like, _what are you talking about?_ — but then he sees the look in Jackson's eyes and decides to just let it go. Instead, he nods, smiling.

“I’ll tell him," he promises, sincerely, and Jackson's mildly panicked fury melts back into a smile. Jinyoung feels a bit weak in the knees.

"Thanks, Jinyoungie," he says, running a hand through his hair, going over to the sofa to grab his discarded sweatshirt and pull it back over his head. His phone, lying abandoned on the coffee table, starts to vibrate noisily. Jackson leans over, takes it up, and grins wide, "Oh, it’s mom!" he stops, swipes on the phone to answer the call. He turns around and leans up to press his lips to Jinyoung’s cheek, seemingly catching himself in the act immediately because he startles and steps back quickly, giving a small, embarrassed smile before mouthing _sorry, old habit_.

"Mama!” is the last thing Jinyoung hears of him, still standing there, feeling the phantom softness of Jackson's lips against his cheek, before the door to Jackson's room closes with a _click_.

After a while of Just Standing Around, an unproductive activity all things considered, Jinyoung sits down on the sofa and puts his head in his hands. After a while, he reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone.

**Jinyoung**

It’s fine.

**Yugyeom**

what happened?

**Jinyoung**

He was checking if the stomach was pointing up or down to determine gender.

**Yugyeom**

thas not reliable until week 20

accrdng 2 mom

**Jaebeom**

i really can't imagine that that's ever reliable

**Yugyeom**

r u clng my mom a liar

**Jinyoung**

He appreciated the speech.

He thought it was cute.

Also, @Bambam, stop sending him stuff about lactation.

**Bambam**

that hyung

im just saying that with my natural charisma and his natural athleticism

we’d win that fucking milk squirting competition

if i have to sports movie montage something motivating

i’ll fucking do it

i just got a promotion at work

adobe premiere is within my grasp

**Youngjae**

Oooh! That would be awesome!

I can pick a song to go over it!

**Mark**

Stop.

**Youngjae**

Okay, Mark :(

**Bambam**

this isn't over

Jinyoung puts away the phone and lays down and breathes for a while, listening to Jackson’s excited Cantonese, remembering the feel of Jackson's skin underneath his hands, of Jackson's eyes blinking up at him, earnest and warm.

Oh, they’re not even _halfway_.

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we are at chapter 4! hmm, what is this slightly panicked feeling jinyoung feels around jackson's pregnancy? can it be... a kink? can it be kink *and* feelings? we'll explore it more in future chapters.
> 
> thank you so much for the support to this story so far! i know there is a lot of things going on right now, but maybe... it'll cheer you up a bit? 
> 
> as always, comments really brightens my day and makes each chapter faster and easier to write. if you feel at all inclined, please drop me a link!
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	5. 14 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

Jaebeom lets himself in through the unlocked door, whistling surprisingly off-key for someone who is so deeply musical. He throws a muttering kind of _hello_ at Jinyoung, who is lounging about on the couch while _Jaebeom_ is out buying Jackson’s latest selection of weird cravings. Sure, Jaebeom might’ve offered, but _still_.

It’s only when Jaebeom is unloading the jars of pickles and chilled peanut butter into the fridge that he realizes that Jinyoung is far less lounging than he is... well, looking a bit faint. Suffering, maybe. Jinyoung’s whole body is a tense line, his face hidden in the crook of his elbow.

Jaebeom does not like to say it (that’s a lie), but honestly, wasn’t this _exactly_ what he said would happen? Over the last couple of weeks, as Jackson and Jinyoung descend into some odd sort of domesticity, Jinyoung has been in a more or less constant state of confused horniness. And as his oldest friend, Jaebeom has the dubious honor of having front row seats to the entire spectacle.

It would be funny if it wasn’t so... sad. And honestly, the only thing sadder than Jinyoung’s boner for domesticity is the fact that Jackson is apparently _oblivious_ to the whole thing. Which is kind of fascinating.

“So,” Jaebeom starts, closing the refrigerator door with a long-suffering sigh, “How you holding up, buddy?” He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn’t want to say that he’s smiling, but he’s definitely doing some kind of smirk. Jinyoung lifts his arm only to glare at him, but due to overuse, Jaebeom can shrug off the patented Jinyoung glare (tm) with a shrug.

“Do not use that tone of voice with me,” Jinyoung mutters, back under his arm, making his voice slightly muffled by the weight of it.

“What tone of voice?” Jaebeom says, using the exact tone of voice that Jinyoung is talking about. It makes Jinyoung sit up a bit, tilting up his upper body so that he can glare more directly at Jaebeom. Jinyoung is not necessarily looking tired, but he’s certainly looking — well — _something_.

The reason for that _something_ soon comes out from his bedroom, wearing a large fleece shirt with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a pair of comfortable, threadbare leggings, and frankly ridiculously fluffy socks. Jackson’s appreciation for oversized shirts does a good enough job of hiding the growing belly so far, but there is certainly a new weight to how he walks which always manages to take Jaebeom a little bit by surprise.

“Thank _God_ you’re here,” Jackson sighs with cheer, making grabby hands towards the pickle jar in Jaebeom’s hands, ”You’re a lifesaver,” he continues, opening the jar easily, fishing out a pickle and digs into it with a flutter of his eyelashes and a low moan, “I’ve been _dying_.”

“Yeah,” Jaebeom hums in agreement, going to get a spoon so that Jackson can top the pickle-eating off with a spoonful of peanut butter, “Apparently the cravings are gonna peak in the second trimester.”

Jackson looks at him fondly, the way he always does when Jaebeom hints that he’s been reading more pregnancy help-books than anything else for the last month. Last week it even made him tear up a bit, which made Jaebeom so panicked he hadn’t been sure of what to do. Jackson doesn’t look like he’ll burst into tears this time, but he definitely looks _soft_ , and so Jaebeom clears his throat and changes the subject. 

“Are you going out with Bambam later?” Jaebeom says, watching Jackson grab another pickle and more or less devour it whole in a way that reminds Jaebeom of the way Nora sometimes kills and eats mice.

“Yeah, we’re easing me into the idea of pregnancy clothes,” Jackson sighs, patting a hand over his belly, the motion shifting the fabric of his shirt in a way that makes it fold around the growing bump, “Apparently Adidas came out with something that’s not awful? And like, I can rock a tracksuit for most of the pregnancy, right?” Jackson looks at him, blinking his large eyes, as though somehow needing Jaebeom’s agreement to that statement. 

“Sure,” Jaebeom agrees easily, “Wouldn’t be too different from how you usually dress.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment, but I’m taking it,” Jackson leans over the counter, waving his peanut butter spoon like a conductor's stick as he talks, never quite able to be still, “My mom wants to send me this classical Chinese dress that’s apparently supposed to bring luck to a pregnant male,” Jackson flicks his hair in a way that is all show and Jaebeom can’t stop himself from smiling a bit fondly at that — nor can he stop Jackson’s look of triumph at having made Jaebeom smile, “You know, since we are so rare and stuff, we were once seen as a _blessing_ ,” at that last word, Jackson’s hand tightens about around the spoon, his other hand digging into the folds of the blanket wrapped around him, but his smile stays fixed, “But yeah, it’s kinda dress-like? And while no shade or anything, I’m not sure it’s my style? Could I even pull it off with these legs?” Jackson snorts, putting his chin in his hands as he gazes at Jaebeom, “Anyway, that’s what’s been up with me, except for all the weird body changes. What’s up with you though? Met any cool musicians lately?”

“Not really,” Jaebeom shrugs because that’s just true. There’s just been a lot of post-production at work, a quiet lull in the industry before everyone crawls out of the woodwork to start releasing their new stuff in time for awards season. There is a pause for a second while Jackson seems to wait for the conversation to continue. When it doesn’t, Jackson rolls his eyes.

“Absolutely riveting conversation, Jaebeom,” Jackson swats at him, before digging back into the peanut butter, offering the spoon to Jaebeom first who politely declines.

“Body changes?” Jaebeom inquires because his mom has been telling him to... ask Jackson about things like that. _It’s lonely_ , she said _, being the first one in a friend group pregnant. You’re going through a lot of things that people just don’t understand. So... talk to him, Beom-ah?_ And the idea of Jackson being lonely is so disquieting that Jaebeom actually wrote it into the Notes of his phone, to make sure he doesn’t forget.

From the way Jackson brightens, it’s the right thing to do.

“Man, yeah! Look!” Jackson chirps, pulling up his shirt. Jaebeom barely blinks at the sudden influx of bare skin. Jackson has always had a kind of... dubious relationship with clothing. Sometimes he’s modest and seemingly embarrassed by the flash of an ankle, and sometimes he can pull off his entire shirt in slow motion in the middle of a restaurant because someone wanted to touch his abs. Jaebeom looks down at the baby bump, at the growth of it, at the way it curves his previously flat stomach into a little hill, “My nipples darkened!”

Jaebeom blinks, “Uh... Okay?” He looks at the nipples in question, which look... fine? He’s not entirely sure — “I don’t... okay?”

“Jinyoung saw the difference immediately, it’s _pretty_ cool!” Jackson grins, running his fingers over the peaks of his nipples. Jaebeom raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sure he did,” Jaebeom says while Jinyoung’s head peeks up from over the back of the sofa to send him a fierce glare. Jaebeom just looks back, unimpressed, and Jinyoung’s face flushes a bit before disappearing back into the couch.

“Also,” Jackson says, letting go of his shirt but still having it hiked up to reveal the bare swell of his belly, and he rubs a hand over it, “My bump’s been _hurting_ a lot, lately. Like, before it was soft, but now, it’s... hard, almost?”

“Yeah, your uterus is growing,” Jaebeom says wisely with all the knowledge of someone who has been reading a lot of pregnancy books without actually being pregnant. Jackson gets the very soft look in his eyes again and then he leans over to press a peanut-scented kiss against Jaebeom’s cheek. The _only_ reason why Jaebeom doesn’t push him off is because Jackson is _pregnant_ and you _can’t_ push someone that is _pregnant_. Yeah, that’s totally the only reason. And then Jackson leans back, curling his fingers over Jaebeom’s hand (whose fingers, maybe, kind of, slightly, curl back), sighing deeply.

“And, like, I’m _mad_ horny.”

“Uh —” Jaebeom blinks.

“T M I,” Jackson says, punctuating every letter with a pop of his lips, ”I _know_ , but like, holy _shit._ I thought puberty was bad, but _this_? Like, sometimes, I’m just standing around, doing _nothing_ , and suddenly — _bam_ — boner,” Jackson exclaims, flaring his hands out as though revealing a magic trick, sighing before digging back into the pickle jar.

“Huh,” Jaebeom says, sneaking a look over at Jinyoung, who has decided to actually sit up and moodily stare out the window, his gaze not even flickering over at them in a way that is so steadfast that it has to be deliberate.

“So, yeah, _madly_ inconvenient. Really hope that’s gonna go away!” Jackson says brightly, biting off a piece of pickle with a sharp _snap_ of his teeth.

It... won’t. Jaebeom doesn’t know if that’s the type of funny little pregnancy knowledge that’s going to get him a kiss on the cheek so he bravely decides not to say anything. Well, they can _dole out_ those little tidbits of information over a longer period of time, right?

There’s a ding from Jackson’s phone — a customized tone, Jaebeom notices, which kind of tells him who it is before Jackson says it — and Jackson wipes his hand off on his shirt and picks it up, starting to talk around the pickle still in his mouth, “That’s Bambam! Okay, I gotta go get ready. Thanks for the baby snacks, hyung,” he says cheerfully, patting Jaebeom’s cheek before rubbing at his stomach a bit absentmindedly as he gets up to walk into his room.

Jaebeom accepts the cheek pat with exasperated grace and then waits dutifully until the door to Jackson’s room closes with a _click_. The moment the door closes, he turns to Jinyoung in a smooth, graceful movement, placing one hand on the counter, one eyebrow already raised. 

“So —”

“Not a fucking word,” Jinyoung mutters, crossing his arms over his chest and digging himself deeper into the couch. He’s pouting in the way he always tries to blame on his resting bitch face but is actually him just being a sulk. Jaebeom, who will let Jinyoung get away with murder and many other petty crimes, does not falter in the pursuit of making him embarrassed. What else are best friends for? 

“So,” Jaebeom starts, sharpening the s on his tongue, “His nipples have darkened, huh?”

Jinyoung glares at him, but then he just sighs, sending a glance heavenwards as though steeling himself, “His lips too,” Jinyoung mutters, wincing a bit at himself which at least speaks for his general sense of sanity, “And he’s growing —” Jinyoung clears his throat, clearly searching for the right word, “— heftier. Like, over the hips and —”

“Oh, _ew_ ,” Jaebeom reels back a bit, face pulled back into a grimace, “ _dude_.”

“What?” Jinyoung says, ears flushing red as he glares.

“That tone of _voice_... Is this, like, a _thing_ for you?” Jaebeom lowers his voice, walking from the studio kitchen more fully into what constitutes the living room, stepping over the back of the couch to seat himself heavily next to Jinyoung. Jinyoung, hair flopping a bit as Jaebeom’s weight makes him bounce, just narrows his eyes.

“Jackson is a thing, you know this,” Jinyoung says primly and with a bit of a pout, the way he usually says things when he’s missing the point on purpose.

“Yeah, but —”

“I’ll get used to it,” Jinyoung interjects before Jaebeom can finish, running a hand through his hair, “I’ll get used to the touching, the skin, the —” he falters a bit.

“Nipples?” Jaebeom supplements, dryly.

“I’ll. Get. Used. To. It.“ Jinyoung grinds out, glaring at Jaebeom who shakes his head.

“Sure,” Jaebeom answers, patting Jinyoung’s shoulder, “I believe in you, buddy.”

“Thank you, _hyung_ , for making that sound as insincere as possible,” Jinyoung snits, full lip curling over his teeth, pulling the hyung card. Usually, that works. Usually, Jaebeom hasn’t just been confronted with his best friend's rampant buffoonery and _kinkery_.

“Well, I’m sorry, Jinyoung-ah, but honestly, like, my sympathy kind of got lost somewhere around _he’s gotten larger_ —”

“Heftier,” Jinyoung corrects, as though that’s the important part. Jaebeom just levels a look at him. To Jinyoung’s credit, he meets Jaebeom’s judgmental gaze head-on. 

“My sympathy for you is literally getting smaller by the second,” Jaebeom drawls, leaning back to bump his shoulder against Jinyoung’s. Jinyoung bumps back, sneering.

“Fuck you,”

“Respect your elders, kid,” Jaebeom says, doing the movement as though to slap the back of Jinyoung’s head but not actually touching the other man. He’s not suicidal. Jinyoung glares at him, the effect slightly diminished by his pout and red-stained ears, “Look, why not... talk to him? He —”

Jinyoung shakes his head, stopping Jaebeom in his tracks, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes before murmuring out the next words with a sigh, “The blanket —” Jinyoung says, motioning around his shoulders to indicate the blanket Jackson had wrapped around him, “It’s Xiao Shu’s.”

“Ah.” Jaebeom winces.

Jinyoung shrugs, a bit helplessly, in agreement.

“He’s — c’mon, you know Jackson. He’ll demand hugs for a tiny splinter, but he’ll insist a broken bone is healed after a day. He’s not —” Jinyoung looks down at his hands, swallowing tightly, voice trailing off before he clears his throat and continues, with a bit more steel, “It doesn’t _matter_ if it’s a thing to me. Jackson doesn’t need that, right now,” He quiets, the next words breathed out softly and under his breath, “I think he still, on some level, thinks Xiao Shu is the _one_ , you know?”

“It’d be weird if Jackson had left a three-year relationship with no feelings at all,” Jaebeom says carefully, measuring his words, this time pressing their shoulders together in a show of comfort, to lend his strength, just a little bit, “It doesn’t mean he’ll never get over it.”

“Xiao Shu —”

“Yeah, well, Xiao Shu was great until he wasn’t.” Jaebeom sighs and looks at his hands, frowning a bit, “I know we’re angry at him, and we _should_ be, but — I’m honestly a bit shocked. didn’t think he’d leave, not over something like this. He’s always been head over heels for Jackson.”

Jinyoung looks away, the skin around his eyes tight.

“Me neither,” he says, quietly, the _I wouldn’t have given Jackson up for anything less,_ is implied underneath it. Jaebeom gives him a proper shoulder pat this time before wrapping one arm around Jinyoung’s shoulders, pulling him a bit closer. They share space like that, for a moment, until Jaebeom clears his throat.

“So, I brought some of the non-awful pregnancy books for Jackson. You should read them through too,” Jaebeom smirks, “But I’m not gonna give them to you if they’re just going to disappear into your spank bank —”

Jinyoung makes a low, disgusted noise in his throat, shoving a cackling Jaebeom away while flushing a deep, ugly scarlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinyoung can have a bit of a pregnancy kink. as a _treat_. 
> 
> i went kinda kosher with jackson's cravings tbh, because i wasn't entirely sure what i was gonna make it. i was thinking about making it kimchi, because that's topical and stuff, but jackson doesn't like spicey things and as much as it would be fun to watch jackson eat spice because the baby demands it, i decided to just go weird. also, pickles are phallic shaped, so imagining jinyoung watching jackson eat pickles slathered in peanutbutter while alarmed at his own state of arousal is just peak comedy.
> 
> this is based on my sister, who once threatened to kill me (she was waddling at the time, like a penguin, and crying, so it wasn't particuarly threatening) because i expressed doubt of her putting worchestershire sauce on cream cheese and eating it like ice cream while she was in the deepest part of her cravings-period. fun times.
> 
> if you like this story, please leave a review! it helps the motivation, and the reviews are honestly the reason to why i put out chapters so fast! i know who i am, i won't lie about needing validation. to everyone who is sticking with this story: thank you so much <3<3<3<3
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	6. 15 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd

“Bammie, how can you afford all this?” Yugyeom asks, his eyes wide as he holds up yet another bag full of clothes, accessories, and other paraphernalia with the cheerful logo _Bump-n-You - Fashion For YOUR Baby Bump!_ stamped on the outside. There are similar bags in different shapes and sizes all over Jackson's bedroom, barely making room for the seven of them crammed in there as well.

“A finely honed sense of what's actually good in Outlets, a lot of credit cards and a generous return policy,” Bambam answers with a wide grin, digging up different pieces of outfit from the assortment of colorful bags with the vigor of a man that is about two minutes away of being allowed to dress his friend up like a doll, “Especially that last thing... If someone removes any tags before Jackson-hyung tells us he really wants to keep it, I'll scalp the one responsible, no exceptions," he glances over at Jackson, who is taking all of the clothes handed to him with a bit of a defeatist sigh, "Okay, I can't scalp Jackson-hyung, so we'll do rock-paper-scissors if that situation arises."

"Sounds fair," Yugyeom says seriously while the others grumble about it, but no one actually says anything against it. Jackson has been looking forlorn for almost two days now, ever since he realized he can no longer button his favorite jeans. Yugyeom has been trying to dispense hugs as often as possible whenever Jackson gets that look in his eyes, and he likes to think that it has helped at least a little bit.

Yugyeom glances over at Jackson as Bambam makes all of them hold different ensembles so that Bambam can fully assess the aesthetic potential of each garment. Jackson looks... different. Look, Yugyeom knows that Jackson is pregnant, but there is a difference between knowing and seeing, and Jackson has gone from _could've gained a few pounds_ to _pregnant_ over what seems to be the last week. He's on the smaller side, at least according to all the websites Yugyeom and Bambam has been doing research on, but it's more than the belly itself. It's in how Jackson dispenses his weight when he stands, how his hips and back have started to move differently, preparing to make up for a new center of gravity —

What? Yugyeom's a dancer and a choreographer! His _job_ is to notice these things! His crush on Jackson dissipated _years_ ago and has nothing to do with it. Besides, he thinks, sending a glance over at Jinyoung who is watching Jackson undress with his ears flaming into red, the-one-with-a-crush-on-jackson spot in their friend group is kinda taken.

Well, whatever. The thing is that even before Jackson removes his shirt and shows the swell of his stomach, of the way it curves the waist of his sweatpants, Yugyeom can _see_ that Jackson is pregnant. It's fascinating, honestly. A bit frightening too, because pregnancies are kind of scary — he and Bammie have been doing a _lot_ of research and at one point he had to let Bambam crawl into his arms to cry for a bit when they'd read about all the potential complications. But it's mostly just cool, honestly, at least when it’s mostly watching Jackson place his hand over his belly instinctively so that you can see whenever he's thinking about the baby.

Jackson's thinking about the baby now, Yugyeom knows, the thoughts showing in the gentle, protective curve of Jackson's hand over his belly, in the way he strokes at it sometimes, as though trying to comfort and settle the child within. He's going to be such a great dad, and Yugyeom's going to be the _best_ uncle. He knows all the others (except maybe Jinyoungie-hyung, who should set his sights on _another_ family position) have the sights on _best uncle_ as well, but Yugyeom thrives under pressure and is taller than all of them, which just gives him an edge.

Anyway, under Bambam's guidance and with Mark's assistance, they watch Jackson change in and out of different types of pregnancy clothes, some of them more successful than others. Jackson frowns at every figure-hugging piece of clothing, seemingly gravitating more towards the formless tracksuits and has to be bribed to take off a massive hoodie that is more like a large, fluffy blanket sewn into a hoodie shape (this is also the first garment whose tag is solemnly removed).

But nothing really seems to stick. Jackson, at most, doesn't _hate_ the clothes (excepting the insane blanket-hoodie) and keeps looking at himself critically in the mirror.

After a while of watching Jackson switch in and out of different outfits, Jinyoung mumbles an excuse about needing to take care of the dishes from earlier and disappears into the kitchen. Jaebeom sighs and soon follows, while Youngjae rolls his eyes a bit on the other side of the room. Jackson, however, doesn't seem to notice it at all and instead just stands there, frowning as he looks at his reflection. He's currently wearing a tracksuit in dark blue and strawberry red, and it does look a bit... big. Not fashionably oversize either, which is a style Jackson has been sporting for years — ever since they'd first met when Jackson was the person in charge of showing Yugyeom around JYPe — but just _big_.

Bambam looks a bit frustrated and opens his mouth to say something, but Mark quietly puts a hand on Bambam's forearm, making the younger man's mouth snap shut with a _click_. Mark turns to Jackson, his voice low and steady as he speaks.

"Gaga," Mark says, placing a hand on Jackson's shoulder, "What's wrong?"

Jackson looks like he'll deny it at first, but then he kind of furrows his brow, sighs, and leans into Mark's touch.

“I don’t know if can do this,” Jackson says, swallowing quietly around the words, and Yugyeom wants to hug him _so badly_ , but he can... he can wait, "I don't know if I can —" he motions to the clothes around them and then at himself, a hand settling over his stomach, trembling a little bit, "It's too _much_."

"Hm," Mark hums and nods quietly, "Yesterday you told me you thought it was the coolest thing that's ever happened to you," he continues in that very Markian fashion of his, straightforward and blunt without being rude.

Jackson huffs a bit, rolling his eyes, " _Yesterday_ my hair looked thick and fantastic. _Today_ my uterus is hard and hurts because it's growing. It's a rollercoaster," he blinks at himself in the mirror, unzips the track-jacket with a sigh, tilting his head as he looks over the shift and changes of his body, "I'm not... I know it's stupid, but I don't feel like the type of guy that wears _pregnancy_ clothes. Does that — does that mean I won't be good at —" Jackson swallows, faltering on the words, "Aren't I supposed to feel like all of this is _natural?_ What does it mean that I _don't?_ "

“You will be _so_ good, Jackson-hyung,” Yugyeom says earnestly, his eyes a bit wet as he leans forward enough to catch Jackson's downturned gaze, "And I know baby feels the same way! Baby is as big as an apple now, and all snug and comfortable in your belly!"

Jackson blinks at him with something like surprise, but then he does a tiny little smile and reaches out to pat Yugyeom's cheek, something he's been doing a lot lately, which is a _win_ in Yugyeom’s book.

"And even if you perhaps don't feel it," Youngjae hums, nodding thoughtfully, "It suits you. Your skin has been _glowing_ , lately."

Bambam sighs a bit in agreement, humming as he looks around the room and the piles of clothes, "You're edging into Jaebeom-skin territory, hyung, for real."

Mark smiles, leaning a bit closer to bump his shoulder into Jackson's, his full lips spreading to show every sharp tooth, "And with your hair growing thicker, I bet you could finally grow a pretty impressive beard."

Jackson looks at them, a bit wide-eyed, and then his lips curl into a smile that he ducks his head to hide — Yugyeom has never quite figured out which smiles it is that Jackson feels the need to hide, especially since he so often is unabashed about most of them.

"Really?" Jackson asks, and this time his tone is warmer and pouty. It's a tone they recognize, and at the familiarity of it, they all smile.

"Yes, Jackson-hyung," Yugyeom grins, "You're very handsome!"

The rest of them all hum in agreement. Jackson mutters something in return as his cheeks flush slightly, clearly pleased as punch. He clears his throat and starts to put on another tracksuit, this one with a high-elastic waist and an oversized jacket, a bit broader in the shoulder.

The five of them all tilt their head with a frown in tandem as Jackson zips the jacket up. Jackson gives another weary sigh, patting his stomach over the loose fabric of the jacket, "I don't know, Bam, I just look _weird_."

Bambam nods slightly, tapping his cheek in thought as he effortlessly steps over the piles of clothing around the room with his long legs, mumbling to himself as he puts together something new.

"Okay," Bambam starts, unzipping the jacket, "Look, I know you kind of want to go to the whole _hide it until I can't_ route, but hear me out..." Bambam says, tapering off as he removes the jacket completely, replacing it with a tight long-sleeved t-shirt before helping Jackson to shrug into a waist-short velvet Adidas jacket, carefully tucking away the exposed tags.

It's different. It shows off Jackson more and does nothing to hide the baby bump at all. In fact, it kind of enhances it. But most importantly, it makes Jackson look lean and strong, less like someone swimming in their own clothes.

Jackson spins slowly in Bambam's direction, turning to the mirror to look at himself a bit more properly. He blinks at his reflection.

Mark nods sagely, placing his knuckles underneath his chin as he looks Jackson over, "This looks better. More you."

With both of his hands on his stomach, Jackson kind of stretches the fabric of the shirt out a bit, making it strain harder over the bump.

"But it... shows it more?" Jackson inquires, shifting his pose to look at himself from the side. Bambam makes a quick flamboyant gesture with his hand, giving a bit of a tsk.

"Yeah, well, you're also _hot_ , hyung, so like... show it off, baby," Bambam says with a wink, making Jackson snort in laughter.

"I'm going to grow breasts, Bammie," Jackson rolls his eyes, "No one wants to see that."

"Oh, I don't know, breasts are pretty nice," Youngjae answers a bit floatily, and then they all take a moment to think about it and ultimately hum in agreement, including Jackson.

"And they're probably not going to be much bigger than they were during your most intense work-out periods, just softer, right?" Yugyeom contemplates, and Jackson sighs a bit.

"Probably not," Jackson's voice softens immediately from a sigh into a smile, and the line of his body is more relaxed, a bit less tense, "It's already started, by the way," Jackson pulls down the neckline of the shirt, motioning for Mark to touch the defined muscle of his pecs, "See?"

Mark presses a couple of fingers down over Jackson's tan skin, and the flesh does seem to give a bit easier, flush a bit higher at the press of Mark's fingers. Yugyeom makes some grabby hands and Jackson leans down so that Yugyeom can do the same thing, press at the softer flesh. _Wow, he's gonna be so good to nap on_ , Yugyeom thinks, having his priorities straight.

"They're softer," Mark confirms to the room, and Yugyeom nods in thoughtful contemplation as Jackson straightens up again. There is a sudden crash from the doorway and they all startle to look to where Jinyoung has just dropped a plate of snacks — organic, Yugyeom and Bambam share a look, rolling their eyes, _whipped_ — flusteredly muttering to himself as he gathers the fallen pieces before hurriedly walking back into the kitchen. Jaebeom, standing behind Jinyoung rolls his eyes with such exasperated air that Youngjae clears his throat.

"You alright, hyung?"

“No," Jaebeom answers, muttering as he steps over piles of clothing to sit down on the bed next to Yugyeom, "Jinyoung is an awful man and needs to be stopped.”

"I don't like the shirt, Bammie? Like, I'm coming 'round to the aesthetic, but I feel like the shirt's too low cut?" Jackson sighs, but then pulls a grin back onto his face, “I like the pants though,” he says as he pulls the elastic of the track pants all the way up to his armpits, making himself giggle-snort at his own reflection which makes the rest of them laugh a bit as well, both at the sight and at the sound of Jackson's mirth, "Very comfortable."

“You're back to finding it awesome?” Mark says softly, smiling as Jackson turns to him with a wide grin.

“I’m back to finding it awesome!” Jackson nods, pulling of the tight top as Bambam starts to prepare another outfit, "Shit," Jackson mumbles, still stuck in the shirt, Mark reaching to help him get out of it, "Bam, I think I managed to rip the tag," he says with a grimace, his soft hair sticking up all over the place, looking very adorable.

Bambam sighs, rubbing his hand over his eyes, as though the weight of the world is on his shoulders, "Fine. Hands, everyone. Who's getting the slap?"

After a quick game of rock, paper, scissors, and a hard slap to Jaebeom's head, Youngjae looks at his watch and gives a small gasp.

"Guys, we have to hurry up, we're going to be late to the ultrasound," he says, clapping his hands together.

"We?" Jackson says, blinking as Bambam starts shoving a cute first-ultrasound-outfit into his hands, "Are... you coming with?"

The rest of them kind of look at each other, all signaling the same _oh, didn't_ you _tell him?_ -energy, but then Jaebeom clears his throat.

"Yeah, we had... planned to? But if you don't want to, we can —"

"We all _have_ to go, hyung," Yugyeom interrupts, putting on his best _please-hyung_ face that works on every single one of them, even if they all like to pretend it doesn't, "Because someone has to hold your hand, and Jaebeom-hyung's going to start crying, so someone’s gonna have to hold _his_ hand, and then someone has to hold _my_ hand because I'm _definitely_ going to cry —"

"I won't cry!" Jaebeom interrupts, sounding scandalized, "I will _not_ —"

"We would love to go, Gaga," Mark says, to the backdrop of Jaebeom’s spluttering, patting Jackson's shoulder, "If you'd have us."

Jackson's entire face softens, his eyes brimming with warmth as he smiles and nods, quickly hiding his face in the act of changing into the outfit Bambam has picked out.

"I _won't_ cry!" Jaebeom exclaims again, and Youngjae pats his back comfortingly.

"Of course you won't, hyung," he says, sounding like he doesn't believe a word of it.

**Coda**

_In the ultrasound room_

The room isn't necessarily big, and Jackson should probably feel more claustrophobic than he does, surrounded by eight people in total — two nurses and his six friends — but he feels surprisingly calm about _that_ at least. He's still nervous as fuck, of course he is, but the nurse has been very nice about him showing up with six people that'd all demanded to be in the room at the same time. She's good at making small-talk, which means that Jackson can kind of focus on being friendly instead of the sheer nervosity of what's actually going on.

"I like your jacket," the nurse tells him with a kind smile as she slathers a frankly obscene amount of jelly on his stomach, some of it getting stuck to the paper she's put into the elastics of his trousers to protect them, "It's very cool."

" _Thank_ you," Bambam answers, flicking the hair out of his eyes, "Finally _some_ appreciation."

Jackson jolts a bit as she presses the wand against his stomach, her eyes on the screen as she asks her colleague to fiddle a bit with the settings. There — doesn't seem to be anything? What if there's nothing, what if there's no baby, what if Jackson's just been making things up in his head? He's read about false pregnancies, what if —

"It's okay," the nurse says, giving him another warm smile, sending a glance to one of the others standing behind him and Jackson relaxes a bit as he feels the familiar weight of Jinyoung's hand on his shoulder, and at the feeling of Mark intertwining their fingers, "It just takes a while to find the uterus on men, it's seated a bit further back, so don't worry."

Okay. Okay, he can do this. It's a bit uncomfortable, sure, and the gel is weirdly slippery, and the roll of the wand's rounded tip on his stomach is _odd_ , and there's still nothing on the screen and —

"There we go," the nurse hums, patting Jackson's forearm and gently making him hike his shirt a bit higher at the same time, "Steady heartbeat."

Oh. That's — It's not much more than a shape, really. It's like a bean, a little curved white thing visible against a dark background. _Baby's as big as an apple_ , he hears Yugyeom's voice from earlier, _snug and comfortable._ He sees the flutter of heartbeat, and he blinks as he feels his own heart skip, as though trying to settle into the same rhythm.

Jinyoung's hand tightens on his shoulder, warm and comforting.

"Oh," Jackson says, in the end, because he doesn't know what else to say.

" _Oh_ ," Jaebeom says from behind him, definitely wet-voiced.

"Hi, baby," Yugyeom murmurs, awe-struck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> extras for this chapter: [[ X ]](https://twitter.com/Syster19/status/1349428628715696132)
> 
> WOW
> 
> okay so this took a while. my defense is that it was a ROUGH WEEK for all us got7 fans, right? and i kinda fell of the wagon of writing, and then i had to get back into it, and then this was a tough chapter to write and —
> 
> excuses excuses.
> 
> anyway.
> 
> here it is! finally! i will hopefully be faster with the next update!
> 
> what kicked me back onto the horse of writing was comments, honestly, so like... validate me? please? feed your mpreg writer, people, it's the best way to keep them from turning sad.
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	7. 16 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

The movie’s probably pretty good. Jinyoung chose it for movie night, after all, and Jinyoung’s got great taste in film and entertainment, so it’s probably a good one. Sucks that Jackson hasn’t been able to concentrate for the last 30 minutes, ever since he shifted his weight wrong and suddenly his back is complaining as though he is carrying a 100 kg backpack.

Tucked away at the far end of the couch, blearily trying to concentrate on the movie (there’s a guy? Who is looking for something? Fuck, he’ll have to try and google it before it’s over), Jackson is in _pain_. Like, honest to good _aching_ with it. It’s been getting worse over the last two weeks, probably because his body is trying to work around a new center of gravity. And, like, Jackson used to be a professional athlete, and the whole _thing_ about being a professional athlete is that you kind of use your body up for glory and then reap the consequences of that for the rest of your life. Usually, Jackson keeps the general pain in check with good exercise, positive thinking, and a healthy lifestyle, but it’s been _hard_ lately.

He shifts his weight again, tries to find a position that doesn’t flare the ache in his lower back higher, but it seems almost impossible. Every time he shifts and believes that he finds relief, it only takes a couple of minutes for it to be back.

Sigh. Oh, he wishes he could get a massage or something. His mother had warned him about this, had sent him a long list of good acupuncturists and masseuses in Seoul, but Jackson had ignored it. Like an _idiot_.

Jackson sighs again, shifting his weight, grimacing as there is another flare of pain. He glances over at Jinyoung, who is sitting on the opposite side of the couch, leaning his head against his knuckles as he watches the movie. The pale blue light of the screen flickers over Jinyoung’s features, over the plump, curled lips, blunt nose, and distressingly sharp jawline.

_Oh, he’s handsome_ , Jackson thinks idly, the way he _always_ does when he sees Jinyoung for the first time after a couple of moments of not seeing him, as though he continuously forgets how handsome Jinyoung is. Jackson’s so used to the thought that he barely notices it. Instead, he metaphorically waves at it a bit irritably in order for it to pass and instead passes a glance down at Jinyoung’s hands.

Maybe Jinyoung could give him a massage? Jinyoung’s got nice, large hands, and they’re _strong_ too, maybe —

Jackson looks away. He shouldn’t. C’mon, Jackson, you know that. You _can’t_. Jinyoung’s been nice enough already, letting Jackson set up shop in his apartment, in his _life_ , always willing and eager to help, Jackson doesn’t need to _push_. Jackson is just thankful they’re _touching_ again, something that they hadn’t really been doing at all over the three years that passed between Jackson’s ill-timed confession and Jackson’s ill-timed pregnancy.

He needs to be happy with the friendship Jinyoung’s willing to give and not push because Jackson would rather die than make Jinyoung uncomfortable again. Jackson might’ve grown out of his crush, but how is _Jinyoung_ supposed to know that? They never talked about it.

Jackson groans as his growing restlessness brings with it unconscious movement, which makes the pain flare back up. _Fuck!_ Fine. He’s going to a masseuse the first thing on Monday, only three days until he can do that. He can survive three days, he once won a fencing gold with a sprained ankle. He’s right as rain, ready to go, not a single issue —

“Jackson-ah?” Jinyoung says, breaking the silence and also Jackson’s train of thought, making Jackson startle and look over with wide eyes. Jinyoung has his head tilted, the curtain-fall of his black hair swaying slightly with the movement, “Are you alright?”

“I’m _great_ ,” Jackson says, giving a thumbs up, groaning as he untucks his legs from underneath him and stretches them out, one hand falling on top of his stomach, “Fantastic movie, I really like the —” he waves at the tv-screen, currently showing two characters having a very important conversation and Jackson recognizes one of them. Kind of. He thinks that’s the male lead? “— colors?“

Jinyoung just looks at him for a while and then tilts his head slightly forward. Their eyes meet. They stare at each other, Jackson’s smile stays fixed on his face. Jinyoung raises one, disbelieving eyebrow. Jackson _crumbles_.

“I’m _sorry_ , Jinyoungie, I’ve been _trying_ to watch but —” Jackson scrunches his face together, properly starting to squirm on the couch now that he doesn’t have to pretend like he’s fine, “— my back’s been acting up like crazy. But, like, it’s _fine_ , I’ll just go to a massage parlor on Monday and get a proper heating pad and...” Jackson winces as he works his knuckles over his stiff back, trying to ease the tensing muscle into _some_ kind of relaxation, “I’ll be _fine._ ”

“Jackson-ah,” Jinyoung says, shaking his head, and that’s just _cruel_ , using that kind of disappointed tone, because Jackson’s pretty sure that he’d swim across Han river to make Jinyoung sound less disappointed, so he’s _defenseless_ against it, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I —” Jackson frowns, looking down at his hand that’s absentmindedly petting at his stomach, “I didn’t want to bother you?”

There is nothing, for a while, just the low humming back-drop of a movie he hasn’t been watching, but then Jinyoung huffs, reaching over the couch to place a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. Jackson looks up, gaze meeting Jinyoung’s handsome face and quirked smile.

“You’re not a bother,” Jinyoung says, his dark eyes warm and intense, “What do you need?”

And Jackson barely thinks about it before answering, because how can he _not_ be honest when confronted with Jinyoung looking like _that_. He’s always been a sucker for a good pair of eyes. It’d been the first thing he’d noticed about a-Shu too, the first they — he shakes his head, blurting it out, “A massage?”

Jinyoung blinks, and Jackson winces and continues, a bit lamely, “It’s just, it’s supposed to really help?”

“Oh,” Jinyoung says, clearing his throat, “Oh, okay. Yeah,” Jinyoung gives a small smile, “Yeah, of course. If it’ll help.”

He’s so _nice_ , Jackson thinks, and is just thankful that his hormones are under enough control so he doesn’t start doing something mortifying like _crying_. The characters on screen are shouting about something, but he and Jinyoung just sit on either side of the couch, a bit awkwardly, the movie forgotten.

“I’ll — lay down?” Jackson says at the same time that Jinyoung says, “Maybe if you —”

“Yeah,” they both say, in tandem, before Jinyoung gets up from the couch to let Jackson lay down. Jackson, _determinedly_ not feeling awkward, arranges himself on the cushions. He frowns a bit as he meets the logistical problem of _pregnancy belly_ meeting _laying on his stomach_ , but then Jinyoung gives him a pillow and Jackson shoves it under his hips, which solves the problem well enough.

Jackson shivers a bit as he hitches up the hem of his large, knitted sweater and then again when Jinyoung carefully folds down the elastic waistband of his pants, giving him better access to Jackson’s lower back.

For a moment, that’s just how it is. Jackson on his belly, his hips tucked up by a pillow, his flushing cheek resting against his folded arms, sweater hiked up and trousers pulled down. Like, a lot less _suggestively_ than it sounds, but _still_. Jinyoung settles down over Jackson’s legs, and Jackson feels the steady weight of Jinyoung over him.

And then Jinyoung’s hands are on his back, thumbs pressing into the knotted muscle right above his tail bone. _Oh_. Jackson thinks, blinking slightly, _that’s nice_. When Jinyoung presses the heels of his hands against Jackson’s back, slowly rolling them all over the thick, tense muscles of his back. He’s not being very forceful, or heavy-handed, but it still feels _divine_ to feel a bit of blood being teased back into circulation, helping warm and ease the muscle.

Jackson sighs, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets himself just _trust_ Jinyoung for a while. He’s not a bother, Jinyoung told him that he wasn’t. He’s just going to believe that. He’s going to trust Jinyoung on that. He’s going to have to start trusting again, some time, right? He can’t just keep thinking about Xiao Shu and broken promises, he has to —

Jinyoung pushes his knuckles down next to Jackson’s spine, and Jackson gives another soft sigh, melting a bit deeper into the cushions. It still hurts, of course it does, but the pain slowly ebbs into a dull, manageable ache as Jinyoung works with his hands, kneading gently over Jackson’s back.

Time passes, Jackson is not sure exactly how much, because he kind of loses himself in the feeling for a while. Jinyoung is so _good_. Jackson is feeling _great_. He’s feeling _cared_ for. He’s feeling rested, warm and soft and _relaxed_ for what feels like the first time in a _week_.

“Feels good, Jinyoungie,” Jackson murmurs, exhaling a soft breath against his forearm.

Jinyoung hums a bit in response, kneading his hands over the back of Jackson’s waist, hands trailing down the slight curve of it, falling down to Jackson’s lower back, thumbs right over the pulled down waistline of his trousers. Jackson just sighs, his eyes fluttering but not opening as he burrows his cheek deeper into the folded lines of his arms.

What happens next is no one's _fault,_ okay? It’s just one of those things that happen. It’s _natural_. Because Jackson’s been horny for _four weeks straight_ , and he hasn’t had sex for longer than that, and Jinyoung is so good with his hands, and it’s not even really _sexual_ , it’s just — Jackson’s feeling good, he’s feeling loose, and _apparently_ what happens then is that he, well, _moans_.

So, that’s what happens, basically. As Jinyoung presses his thumbs into Jackson’s lower back, right above the swell of Jackson’s ass, the feeling of easing pain is so intense that Jackson just... moans. Like, a _proper_ fucking moan, all breathy and reverberant and —

Jinyoung’s hands leave his skin as though burned, and Jackson’s eyes snap open as he slaps a hand over his own mouth while his entire face heats into a deeply embarrassed flush. _Shit_. He squirms, moves his legs so that Jinyoung has to stumble up and away before Jackson curls onto the couch on his side, covering his face with both his hands.

_Fuck!_

“Uh —” Jinyoung starts, sounding flustered, having to stop to clear his throat, “Uh, I’m just gonna —”

“I’m _so_ sorry!” Jackson whimpers, “God, I didn’t — I’m, ah, I’m not like —” _hard_ or anything, he wants to say, except that would kind of be a lie, because while it's definitely dying down as they speak, he hadn’t been exactly _soft_ earlier, he’d just been distracted from that because of Jinyoung’s hands, “Oh my God, I’m going to _die_ ,” he curls up a bit tighter, but is _stopped_ from doing it completely because of his _stupid_ belly! Ah! Why is the world _against_ him? Even the _baby_ —

“It’s okay,” Jinyoung breaks through his thoughts, having walked over to kneel next to the couch. There is a moment of quiet, and then he sets a tentative hand on Jackson’s upper back, between his shoulder blades, and rubs comfortingly, “It’s okay, Jackson, I know, it — uh — it happens?“

“Yeah! Ha! Yeah, sure, it _happens_ , I’m so fucking sorry, I’ll just —” Jackson rolls himself over, dares a look at Jinyoung, who’s face looks a bit flushed, his eyes a bit wide, and starts to get up. Jinyoung quickly reaches out to help him, as though Jackson is a lot more months along than he actually is, and Jackson waves him away, “I’m going to my room!”

“Wait, Jackson,” Jinyoung says as Jackson starts to stalk towards his room, and he sounds — he sounds almost lost? Jackson looks back, and Jinyoung stands there looking... Jackson’s not entirely sure what he’s looking like. But Jinyoung looks worried, a bit lost, his cheeks puffed up and his teeth working on his lower lip the way he always does when he’s... nervous?

Jackson pauses. Blinks. Oh. _Wait._

He’s always assumed that he was the only one that missed their friendship like an open wound, but the thing is — Jinyoung had been Jackson’s best friend and Jackson had... kinda been Jinyoung’s best friend too? Like, sure, Jinyoung had Jaebeom, but Jackson _knows_ that’s not the same thing. Jackson and Jinyoung had been thick as thieves before Jackson’s stupid feelings had mucked everything up, dirtied the water between _friendship_ and _crush_.

Jinyoung has been keeping his distance, yeah, ever since that confession but — so had Jackson. And Jackson hadn’t really thought about how Jinyoung might’ve... missed him. Just as much as Jackson has missed Jinyoung.

_Oh_.

Well.

He blinks again, and Jinyoung looks at him, wetting his lips, looking like he wants to say something but not knowing how.

Jackson is still embarrassed as fuck, but now it’s suddenly mixed with determination. And like, everyone knows that a determined Jackson Wang is a lot like a bulldozer. He takes a steadying breath, turns back, and walks back to Jinyoung who just stands there, looking at him.

“We need to talk about what happened three years ago,” Jackson says, not really believing in dancing around things once you know what the problem is. Jinyoung’s watched him fall apart over internet videos of baby animals, a broken bottle of mirin, and the sight of a lone cookie on a counter, Jackson can bare himself emotionally even more if it helps them heal their friendship.

Jinyoung furrows his brow, but Jackson is on a _mission_. No adorable little furrows or cute little blinks will get Jinyoung out of this. So, Jackson takes Jinyoung’s hand, tugs him back to the couch, sits him down, and promptly sits down next to him.

“Uh, Jackson, we don’t —” Jinyoung starts, but Jackson just narrows his eyes and Jinyoung’s voice dies down.

“We do. We haven’t talked about it for three years, we’ve just been completely ignoring it, and we really shouldn’t. Ignore it, I mean,” Jackson clears his throat, “Okay. Here goes. Jinyoungie. I’m sorry. I chose a bad time to confess, and I should’ve been more considerate of your feelings.”

“Jackson —” Jinyoung starts, swallowing around the word, “Jackson, that’s not —”

“No, look, lemme —” Jackson sighs, runs a hand through his hair, “You had _just_ broken up with your girlfriend, I’d helped you move out of her apartment, like, two days earlier, and I — it wasn’t nice,” Jackson gives a small, crooked smile, “It just wasn’t. I should’ve waited. I should’ve — like, we could’ve handled it better, had I waited.”

Jinyoung releases a small, shaky breath, “I — yeah, but —”

“I’d been in love with you for _years_ by that point, and I - I just thought that if I told you... I don’t know. You’d magically stop being heartbroken over your cheating girlfriend, and start loving me instead?” Jackson laughs, placing a hand over his stomach, for comfort and focus, “I was _young_ , three years ago,” Jackson takes a breath, looks up, meets Jinyoung’s slightly bemused, dark gaze, “So, for that, I’m sorry.”

Jinyoung is quiet, his silence a bit weighted. But that’s okay. Jackson knows that. He knows Jinyoung’s silences, he has always known them. They only started scaring him after he confessed, but before that he’d found a lot of comfort in them. Maybe, Jackson thinks, he can start finding them comforting again?

“Okay.” Jinyoung nods, exhaling the word in a breath, “Okay, yeah. I — I can understand that,” and then he reaches over, takes Jackson’s hand in his, holding it so, so gently, as though Jackson’s hand was made of glass and not tan skin and calluses, “But then I want to give my own apology.”

“For _what?_ ” Jackson says, startling himself into a giggle, “Jinyoungie —”

“No, I do.” Jinyoung leans forward a bit, looking _earnest_ , and Jackson’s breath hitches in his throat, “I’m sorry for not being nicer when you told me,” he takes a breath, “I shouldn’t have laughed, I should’ve... just —” Jinyoung strokes his thumb over Jackson’s hand, and Jackson’s fingers curl instinctively around Jinyoung’s, “— been nicer. You didn’t do anything wrong telling me, even if the timing could’ve been better. But that doesn’t excuse the way I reacted,” he smiles, softly, “I was also young, three years ago.”

And it feels like a stone falls from Jackson’s heart. Because yeah, it’d _hurt_ the way Jinyoung had reacted, but Jackson has just spent a lot of time thinking about how he himself could’ve done better. It’s nice to hear that maybe Jinyoung’s been thinking a bit about whether he could’ve done better as well.

“I’ve missed you, you know?” Jackson breathes out, sniffling a bit, but not _crying_ , because he will _not_ cry, “I missed _us_.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung answers, just as softly, “Yeah, me too.”

They share a smile, their fingers lingering together for a moment longer before letting go. Jinyoung glances back at the movie, still paused on the, probably, emotional scene from earlier.

“Want to give it another try?” Jinyoung smiles, and then gives a bit of a sniff, falling into his lovely brand of fond bitchiness, “I really think you’d like it, if you actually paidattention.”

Jackson rolls his eyes, “I don’t even know any of the characters. I really haven’t been able to concentrate.”

“I’ll tell you,” Jinyoung leans back into the sofa, raising one arm to invite Jackson to cuddle closer, to actually use Jinyoung as a warm, human-shaped pillow, “C’mon.”

With a delighted squeal, Jackson burrows into Jinyoung’s side, wrapping his arms around Jinyoung’s waist, his heart so full and warm it feels close to bursting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay before someone comes at me with a pitch fork, that while jackson kind of missed the mark, he also REALLY struck his head right on the nail about them needing to talk about what happened three years ago. jinyoung's been beating himself up, jackson's been beating himself up, they just have to move PAST it. now they're more on the same page. he's very emotionally intelligent, he's just also an idiot because he doesn't know jinyoung loves him.
> 
> or, that, well, what jinyoung felt at that moan wasn't *disgust*.
> 
> ah, man. these idiots.
> 
> chapter count went up because i went over my planning and broke up a couple of chapters.
> 
> please review if you like this story! they are incredibly motivating, and they really keep me going!
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	8. 18 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

Mark blinks as he opens the fridge on the hunt for a canned soda of some kind. Jackson has a weird vendetta against anything too sugary, but he’ll allow some of the more bitter and medicinal tasting fizzed drinks, which is something. But that’s not why Mark blinks. No, the reason why that happens is that on the second shelf lies a... phone? Well. Okay. Mark grabs a soda, a fizzed water that will taste like an orange spent some time close to it about a year ago, and the phone and returns to the living room.

“Why was there a phone in the fridge?” Mark asks, opening the can with a sharp sound, taking a sip. Jaebeom and Jinyoung look up from where they are seated on the couch, Jinyoung’s legs in Jaebeom’s lap as Jaebeom is mixing with some post-production or something on his computer. Mark’s own work, some graphical work on a magazine photoshoot, lies a bit further away on the coffee table.

“Ah,” Jinyoung blinks, removing his headphones as he gets up from his seat, groaning a bit as he stretches, passing by Mark to take the phone before walking over to Jackson’s door and knocking on the closed door, “Jackson-ah, you put your phone in the fridge again.”

There is a bit of silence and then there is the sound of someone moving on the other side of the door before Jackson opens it. He’s wearing a pair of pregnancy adidas pants pulled up over his bump and a pale grey t-shirt tucked into it, probably bought before he got pregnant, because it’s kind of tight and threadbare. On his feet, he wears huge fuzzy socks, one pulled slightly higher than the other.

Jackson does a slow kind of blink, refocusing his eyes before groaning as he takes the phone from Jinyoung, “Really? Again?” he swipes on it, looks it over, “My brain just hasn’t been in the game for the past few days. Yesterday I stepped into the shower fully clothed.”

“Pregnancy brain,” Jaebeom says wisely while Mark rolls his eyes and takes another zip from the almost-orange-flavored soda, “Your brain is stewing in hormones,” he says with a slightly odd inflection, meaning he’s read it rather than thought the term up himself. Jackson just frowns, apparently not really listening, as he looks at his phone.

“Why was I in the kitchen?” Jackson asks after a bit of silence, sounding a bit confused, blinking up at Jinyoung.

“Did you get your snack?” Jinyoung asks, smiling, and hm... Mark and Jaebeom exchange a glance. That’s different. Jackson and Jinyoung haven't necessarily been avoiding each other (they do, after all, live in the same apartment) but they’ve certainly been doing some kind of avoidance. Bambam calls it emotional avoidance born from differing expectations. Mark calls it being cowards. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

Jackson snaps his fingers and pats Jinyoung’s stomach in thanks before turning around and shuffling into the kitchen with his large fuzzy socks. He waves at Mark and Jaebeom a bit absentmindedly as he passes them.

The moment Jackson has passed them, both Mark and Jaebeom’s heads snap in tandem towards Jinyoung who is looking kind of amused, but mostly just... pleased. It’s nice, to see him like that, and Mark has never been the one to give Jinyoung the most shit, but he’ll certainly give him a bit.

“So —” Mark starts, looking over at Jaebeom, who continues.

“— you two seem to... get along?”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, but the effect is slightly diminished by the fact that he is radiating contentedness like a satisfied cat.

“It’s better,” Jinyoung smiles,, “We talked. And, we’re... friends again.”

“You weren’t friends before?” Mark says quietly because what went down between Jackson and Jinyoung three years ago has been one of those things they just Do Not Talk About, even though they all felt the ripple effects of it. Jackson has always neatly avoided it, sidestepping the conversation with such graceful, desperate vigor that you never really had any option but to just dismiss it completely. 

“It’s different,” Jinyoung shrugs, sighing as he runs his hand through his hair, “I don’t know how to explain it. I didn’t think we needed to, not really —” he makes a wave in the air, a bit noncommittally, as though he doesn’t really know the word as for what to say, “But it’s better. We’re talking again, really talking, and it’s —” Jinyoung smiles, small and a bit bashful, and Mark finds himself smiling back, and the three of them share the smile between them as Jinyoung continues, ”— good.”

Jackson comes back from the kitchen carrying his snack, a small pot of yogurt, and a couple of berries. He’s rounder than he used to be, his hips and thighs padding out and easing the line of his baby bump. His chest, especially, is looking plump, not necessarily like breasts, but certainly like... something. The t-shirt strains a bit over the swell of his chest. And, uh...

Oh.

Uhm.

Mark clears his throat.

Jackson comes back from the kitchen carrying a snack and also sporting two small, wet spots on his t-shirt, right over his nipples.

Jinyoung follows his gaze, and then promptly becomes so flushed that Mark is in half a mind to run and get some kind of fainting couch or something. Jinyoung doesn’t look away though, as Jackson absentmindedly licks some yogurt off his spoon and is seemingly unaware of the new addition to his clothes.

Mark sighs softly and clears his throat again, wondering how to put i think your breasts are leaking into slightly more diplomatic terms, “Gaga,” he starts, gentling his voice as Jackson blinks up at him, looking devastatingly cute and distracted, with his large brown eyes blinking at the three of them. Mark smiles carefully and waves a hand to his own chest. Jackson furrows his brow.

“Huh?” Jackson first looks down at Mark’s chest, blinks, before looking up at Mark for some kind of confirmation and Mark tilts his head forward. Jackson gets the hint and looks down at his own chest. He pauses briefly, blinking again before rasping out a “What the fuck?”

“Lactation,” Jaebeom says wisely, out into the room, like some sort of doula oracle or something. Mark’s going to go confiscate all those pregnancy books, it’s turning weird, and they really only need one pregnancy aficionado in the group and Jinyoung (still flushing, staring at Jackson, red rising steadily on his cheeks) has that entire subgroup of kink in the bag.

“Already?” Jackson exclaims, sounding betrayed as he stands there, arms outstretched to either side, looking down at the two, growing, wet spots, “Fuck! The books said it wouldn’t happen until like, week thirty-five or something!” 

“Your breasts have been getting bigger,” Mark says, shrugging, “Maybe that has something to do with it?” Because they have. Jackson’s always been fit, so he’s always had a certain swell to his chest, but the way it’s been going over the last couple of weeks is different because now there’s a genuine softness to the entire thing, a gentle little flush of soft flesh creating a bit of cleavage. It’s honestly kind of fascinating.

Jackson just stares at him before crossing his arms over his chest, ironically squishing his chest together so the swell is more noticeable, “Don’t look! And also, what do you mean they’ve been getting bigger, have you been noticing —”

“Jackson-ah —” Jinyoung breathes and his voice has a certain kind of breathiness to it that makes both Mark and Jaebeom wince. But, well, before Jinyoung can finish whatever disaster of a sentence that was turning out to be, Jackson has put down the cup of yogurt and is in the process of taking off his shirt.

As he manages to wrestle out of it, coming out from the neckline with mussed hair and a slightly flushed face, he quickly shucks the t-shirt at Jinyoung who catches it automatically, and then he stares down at the flush swell of his chest and the puffy, weeping nipples topping them. He frowns, shifting his weight a bit before pressing his fingers down over one of them. A bit of milk drips out, a little drop of thick liquid.

“What the fuck?” Jackson says at his chest, mouthing the words more than actually saying them out loud before he looks up at them, his eyes large and puppy-like as he repeats the sentiment, louder this time, “What the fuck?” he rolls his fingers over his nipple, and another little drip of milk spills out, and he catches it on his fingers, spreading the liquid between the pads of his fingers. He looks up at the three of them, and this time Mark is a bit alarmed to find that Jackson looks worried, “I’m not supposed to lactate yet, right? Is there something wrong? The books —”

“It’s probably fine,” Jaebeom says, “It’s apparently one of those things that are super individual, but we could call the doctor just in case if you want to?” Jaebeom shrugs, smiling a bit tightly, “It’s just a little bit, it’ll be a lot more the closer you get.”

“It’ll be more?” Jackson says, a bit shrilly, “What the fuck!” 

Jaebeom looks like he’s going to say more, share another little piece of fun pregnancy trivia about lactation, but Mark places a hand on his forearm, which makes Jaebeom fall silent again, just offering Mark a bit of a sheepish smile.

Meanwhile, Jinyoung is staring at the gentle curve of Jackson’s breasts, the swollen and engorged flesh, topped by the dusky peaks of his nipples, currently stained shiny by the dripping liquid. He’s holding onto the t-shirt in his hands very tightly. Mark elbows him in the stomach. Jinyoung startles and clears his throat, but soon falls back into staring, even if it might not be quite as obvious this time, because at least he lets his gaze travel a bit this time and doesn’t let it get stuck for too long on Jackson’s chest.

Jackson rubs a hand over his eyes, biting his lower lip, “I need to call my mom,” he says in the end, shaking his head as he looks down at his hand. His empty hand. He blinks at the offending appendage and frowns, “Wait, where’s my phone?”

“Check the frídge, maybe?” Mark suggests carefully and Jackson just makes a small oh, yeah, that’s right, sound before shuffling back into the kitchen.

The moment Jackson leaves, both Mark and Jaebeom turn in perfect synchronization to Jinyoung and slaps him on the back of the head.

At first, Jinyoung looks like he’ll complain, but then Mark just sends a meaningful glance at the shirt currently gripped in Jinyoung’s hands and at that Jinyoung just kind of sighs, and shrugs.

“Honestly? Fair enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jinyoung is just so horny. so, fucking horny. sadly for him and funnily for me (and hopefully for you), it's just gonna get worse from here :)
> 
> a short and sweet chapter today, i FINALLY managed to wrangle back a bit of buffert so i should be abele to keep a schedule.
> 
> i am going through and reading the comments, but it's been one HELL of a week so i've been focusing on writing in the spare time i have, but don't think that means i don't read and ADORE the comments, because i do and they really keep me going!!
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	9. 19 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

“Oh, look at that, Minji-ah, it’s time for Jackson-ssi and his entourage,” Yeona says, smiling as she looks out over the waiting room, at the sudden swell of people inside. Jackson sees her and waves cheerily, and she waves back as the six men around him nod politely or wave to her as well. One of them is apparently trying to help Jackson sit down, and Jackson is dealing with it admirably well, considering he’s not at all big enough to have any real problems with the motion yet. When Yeona had been pregnant, she’d been about two breaths away from killing her husband when he’d tried to pull the same thing while she was in the twentieth week.

“They’re all here again?” Minji says fondly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, throwing a quick glance in the mirror behind them to make sure she looks fine before reaching over and tapping Soomin on the shoulder. As he removes his headphones, she indicates her head towards the group of people.

“ _Yes_ ,” Soomin says, quickly tapping away on the computer, closing it down to sneak a glance at the group currently in the waiting room, “Gosh, I wish _I_ had six handsome men waiting on me hand and foot,” he sighs as he’s looking over.

“Stop drooling over a patient’s company,” Yeona says, but she’s not particularly vicious about it. Both Soomin and Minji keep it professional, and it’s been a rough couple of weeks with all the changes going on at the clinic, so she can allow a bit of friendly admiration.

Besides, she thinks, glancing over, they really are very handsome, and quite attentive too.

“Hi, Yeona-noona,” Jackson says as he approaches the nurses station to check in, the paperwork already filled out and ready. He’s accompanied by the tallest one of his boys, Yugyeom, who is very bright and friendly, and always looks like he’s rediscovering the miracle of life every time Jackson puts a hand on the swell of his belly. Jackson’s resting a hand there now, stroking over his stomach a bit absentmindedly, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly alright, Jackson-ssi,” she says, leaning over to take the paperwork and also clasp Jackson’s hand for a moment. He’s such a bright, friendly man, and he was so unhappy the first time she saw him. He’s a lot happier now, growing into the friendliness that seemed more a habit than natural the first time he was here, “How are you doing today?”

“The baby kicked!” Yugyeom says loudly, as though he’s been waiting to tell people about it for _hours_. Jackson looks over to him, and looks more fond than anything else as he shakes his head.

“Yugyeom-ah, please, I don’t think that’s what she meant —”

“The baby kicked! We can’t feel it yet, but Jackson-hyung can,” Yugyeom continues, leaning over the counter to smile broadly at Yeona and the other nurses. He really is devastatingly handsome, with the air of someone who knows it a bit too well (the curve of his smile is certainly not _innocent_ when he catches Minji’s flushed face). Soomin, however, squeals and rushes forward to lean over the counter and receive his own Jackson-smile.

“That’s amazing! Oh, Jackson-ssi, how are you feeling about it?”

Jackson smiles so brightly that Yeona can practically _feel_ the hearts of the nurses behind her swell a bit larger, and her own heart starts beating a bit faster.

“They’re strong!” He curls his fingers over the swell of his stomach, “A future athlete, maybe?” He says the last thing a bit shyly, because he’s been struggling to conceptualize a future with the child, a little bit stuck in whatever situation that makes him come along to every meeting with a rotating cast of the six men with him today, none of them the father. They’ve talked about it at his sessions with Yeona and Minji, about learning to think beyond the scope of the pregnancy. Yeona gives him an encouraging smile when he does it and Jackson returns it with one of his own, brighter ones. 

“How’s your dad, Soomin-ssi?” Jackson continues, leaning forward to put a hand on Soomin’s forearm, looking very earnest, “Is he doing better?”

Soomin flushes but nods, “Ah, you remember that? Yeah, yeah he’s doing better, the nursing home —” he continues talking, placing one hand over Jackson’s as he speaks, Jackson nodding along at all the right places. Yeona sighs and turns to Yugyeom, giving him the confirmation of their arrival.

“Are all of you joining us for the ultrasound?” Yeona asks him, glancing at the cluster of men behind them that are all either trying to look like they aren’t hovering or wanting to hover.

“Yes, if that’s alright?” Yugyeom nods, “We know you want some alone time with Jackson-hyung beforehand, but we’d really like to be there for the baby-peeping.”

“That’s alright, we’ll take the individual consultation with Jackson-ssi next week instead,” trying to talk to someone about nutrition is more or less worthless while they’re waiting to see the growing outline of their baby, Yeona’s learned. But he’s right about that, that Yeona and Minji always try to at least have some conversations alone with Jackson. It’s important, so that Jackson feels he can say anything he wants.

Not that Yeona has much need to worry, but Jackson is as much devoted to the six men as they are to him, and she doesn’t want that to lead into Jackson feeling like he can’t perhaps speak frankly about his experience. 

One of the men in question, who looks a bit like a prince, classically handsome in a way that feels almost like a joke, is walking towards them. He has Jackson’s brightly coloured jacket folded over his forearm, and when he steps closer, he touches the tips of his fingers to the small of Jackson’s back.

Ah, Jinyoung-ssi. Handsome and lovely and absolutely _gone_ for Jackson.

Yeona and Minji share a bit of a look, softly amused.

“Jackson-ah, Bam’s going to the cafeteria, do you want anything?“

“Ah!” Jackson says, turning to Jinyoung with a smile and a... small flush? Oh, that’s new, “A green tea, if it’s possible?”

“Of course,” Jinyoung looks back at them, inclines and bows his head, the very image of good manners, “Yeona-noona, Minji-noona, Soomin-hyung.”

“Jinyoung-ssi,” they all greet back, inclining their head. Minji speaks up, “Please don’t be gone for too long, the room should be ready in ten minutes or so.”

“Of course,” Jinyoung answers smoothly, with his hand still on Jackson’s back, seemingly unconsciously.

Jackson, Yugyeom and Jinyoung walk back to the rest of Jackson’s boys, Jackson turning around to wave as they do. Yeona and her colleagues wave back, all of them sharing warm and slightly amused glances.

Oh, so sue them. Jackson and his entourage is the most interesting thing to have happened to them for _years_. And it’s — cute, to watch seven people so obviously care for each other.

“Did you see that flush on Jackson-ssi’s face?” Soomin leans back, saying it under his breath. Minji and one of the passing nurses looking over the journals both give him conspiratorial glances.

“Oh, we saw. You think Jinyoung-ssi’s making some progress?” Minji leans forward, the other nurses following her lead around as they all lean forward.

“We can hope,” Soomin says, placing a hand on his cheek, “It’s been almost painful to watch. Remember last week? He was debating whether or not to hold Jackson’s hand internally for _ten minutes_.”

“And in the end Mark-ssi held it instead,” Yumi tsks, placing the last journal into its folder with a _click_ , “Ai, they should do something about it before the baby is born, because lord knows they won’t have time to talk about it once the baby’s out making a mess.”

“Let them work it out in their own time,” Yeona says, looking over at the rest of them who balk correctly in the face of her seniority, “This is obviously not an easy situation for anyone involved.”

“I don’t know,” gentle Jon-woo says as he makes note on the previous patient’s chart, his round face softened into his usual sweet smile, “It could certainly be a lot worse. We have a lot of burgeoning parents with a lot less support around them.”

They all nod. Eric pokes his head out from the ultrasound room, indicating that it’s free. Yeona clears her throat, dusts off the front of her scrubs.

“Well, no matter, I am not letting any of you get your hands in this. Leave these poor people alone.”

“Yes, Yeona-noona,” comes the chorus of answers as Minji grabs the proper paperwork and goes to fetch Jackson, his hands currently around a steaming cup of green tea, and his men.

“Okay, guys.” Minji says, waving them along, “You know the way.”

They all trudge into the room, the biggest one they have but still struggling to fit all of them in there. Jinyoung is next to Jackson as Jackson settles onto the examination bed, and Minji helps to fix it until he lies comfortably.

Jackson unbuttons his shirt, baring his belly.

“Thank you, Jackson-ssi,” Yeona says, flexing her fingers to make the blood flow a bit better and hopefully make her hands feel warm, “Okay, let’s see here —” she starts the routine check-through, pressing gently over the belly to feel at the uterus. She measures the swell, says the measurement for Minji to note into Jackson’s journal, making sure to reassure Jackson along every step of the way. He’s a first time parent, and Yeona knows how difficult it is to go through this without any sort of measuring stick. But everything looks normal, and the more they talk, the more relaxed Jackson looks.

They continue to go through the standard set of questions. The ones like; How are you sleeping, eating, moving — and Jackson answers all of them, sometimes looking to one of the other boys to help him fill out some information, all of them seemingly _well_ acquainted with anything regarding Jackson.

“He started lactating last week,” Mark says seriously.

“Ah, a bit early, but nothing to worry about as long as the liquid isn’t red or pink,” Yeona answers.

“He’s been sleeping worse,” Bambam pipes up, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sleeping _fine_ , it’s just a new thing to get used to,” Jackson rolls his eyes, but Yeona notes it down anyway, “You try sleeping with an extra weight on your belly and we’ll see how _you_ feel, Bammie.”

“It should take a while to get used to, but I’ll give you this —” she leans back towards her desk, grabs a brochure named _Baby Bump Sleeping - A Guide For The Expecting_ , and hands it to Jaebeom who takes it with a serious nods and starts looking through it, “— you should probably start trying to find a new sleeping position, if you’re already having trouble now.”

“We could totally get one of those cool pillows,” Yugyeom says, “We could get one with an _anime_ figure on it.”

“Absolutely not,” Jackson says, sounding alarmed, “We are _not_ doing that. I’ll get a pillow, but it will be a _sensible_ one.”

“Absolutely, Hyung,” Yugyeom and Bambam chirps, already on their phones. And honestly, Yeona hasn’t known them very long at all, but she could’ve told Jackson that this would happen.

“The baby started moving,” Youngjae adds, his smile big and bright and his voice just a bit too loud, “Jackson-hyung said it felt very strong!”

“Yugyeom-ssi already told us,” Yeona smiles, because how could she not, when the air is so full of care, she clicks her pen shut and hands it over to Minji who nods, “Okay. Let’s get to the ultrasound. Have you decided whether or not you want to know the gender?”

“Yes,” Jackson smiles, looking nervous and excited, “Yes, we’d really like to know.” The other boys nod along. Yeona and Minji share a glance, gently amused. _We, huh?_

“Very well,” Yeona hums, “Jinyoung-ssi, could you —” she motions to the small stool next to Jackson’s bed, “— help out? Hold up the shirt, so we make sure it doesn’t fall into the gel, it’ll disturb the wand.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure,” Jinyoung answers, taking a seat on the small stool, looking comically too big for it as he gently takes Jackson’s hand and then helps to hold the edges of the shirt up as Yeona pulls down the elastic waistband, tucks a paper towel into it to protect it against the gel.

She finds the uterus faster this time, having made sure to actually brush up on her anatomy before the session. She still tsks at herself for last time, when she’d been overconfident and made Jackson-ssi worry all for nothing. The uterus is a bit harder to find on men, but not that much at all if you know where to look.

The seven men all stare intently at the screen, holding their breath, and when the little thumping wash sound of the baby’s heart starts to sound, and the baby comes into view, they all breath out.

Yeona smiles to herself as Minji starts pointing out all the different parts. The arms, the hands, the curled little legs, the nose, the soft little shape of the ears. It’s not really for any other reason than to give the expecting parents to look at, but it’s still so gratifying to do, to point out all the pieces that make up the human and watch the parents fall more and more in love.

Or, as it is now, watch one parent and six uncles far more and more in love.

“And she’s looking very healthy,” Yeona says softly, watching Jackson’s wide eyes glance over at her, and he grabs Jinyoung’s hand, intertwining their fingers. Their grasp is tight, “Congratulations, Jackson-ssi.”

“A girl?” Jackson swallows, “Oh. She... ” he blinks, swallowing, “She’s doing well?”

“She’s doing great,” Yeona smiles, “You’re doing good, Jackson-ssi.”

The smile she gets in return is blinding.

When she is washing her hands afterwards, Minji is leaning against the door, sending her a glance.

“Don’t get involved huh?” Minji smiles, coming over to bump her shoulder against Yeona’s, “Since when do we need anyone to hold up someone’s _shirt?_ ”

“Shush,” Yeona says, looking down at her hands, “It was a valid concern. The shirt was probably expensive. I didn’t want it to get ruined.”

“Uh-huh,” Minji grins, shaking her head, “If you say so.”

Yeona rolls her eyes, but then shakes her head and gives herself a secretive little smile. Hey, it takes a village, right? And besides, she’d been close enough to see how Jinyoung and Jackson hadn’t let go off each other's hands during the entire session.

Oh, so sue her, she’s a romantic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have an endless fondness for people working in healthcare, because while i've certainly met some less than good people, most of them are just fantastic. which is why i feel a bit bad making the nurses unprofessional, because the nurses i know would never discuss their patients like this, especially not in a semi-open space, but I hope it comes across with the warmth it's meant.
> 
> i wanted to do an outsiders perspective! this whole saga is turning out to be my safe little space to experiment and try new things, so I wanted to try out that. i think it turned out alright? i'm fond of the chapter as a concept, not too sure how i feel about it's execution.
> 
> i am going through and reading the comments, and i am setting down to answer them in a couple of hours, but don't think that my lack of response means I don't absolutely adore them! it's been a rough week, and the lovely comments has really been a reason to make time to write, so please leave one if you feel so inclined!
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	10. 20 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

Bambam’s had a shitty day. Just, like, the _shittiest_ fucking day, alright? It’s been the type of day where he slept through his alarm but woke up with _just_ enough margin to be in time if he really fucking hurried. That sense of stress, with his heart lodged in his throat while he’s brushing his teeth while shoving his feet into a pair of shoes he hasn't really tried out in action yet, just stays with him for the rest of the day. Add to that an uncompromising boss with a bad temper, a condescending customer that kept talking to Bambam slow and loud, enunciating each word like a parody of the Duolingo bird, no matter how fluently Bambam answered back, and you just had the recipe for a bad day all around.

Not that it ended there. He spilled coffee on his new shirt, his shoes started giving him blisters around hour 2, he made three designs that he was really proud of but which were not chosen to even get to the second round of applications and —

Sigh. Bambam is a happy guy. He genuinely is. Life is hard, and Bambam believes that you either square up and learn to take the punches (and learn to retreat whenever necessary, he’s not _stupid_ ) or you can just lay down and eat gravel. But sometimes it’s _hard_ to be happy.

Turns out it’s even harder when your new shoes are apparently half a size too small.

So, when Bambam is in the elevator to Jinyoung’s apartment, he’s not _sad_ , but he’s certainly _something_. A bit off-kilter, maybe? A bit like he’s been shoved into a locker by the great bully that is a bad day at work.

He sighs as he unlocks the door with his key, already thinking about the best way to get back on track. Maybe he could get Jinyoung to make him food and pet his hair? Maybe he could bully Jinyoung by making Jackson bend over and collect pens from the floor as Bambam guilelessly tosses them down? Ah, the possibilities are endless. The mere thought doesn’t cheer him up though, which makes Bambam worry that perhaps this will just be one of those days that are Bad and No Good. Bambam _hates_ those days.

“Bammie?” comes from the sofa, where Jackson is lying down and listening to music, propped up on his recently acquired Sasuke body pillow, looking very soft and fluffy-haired, “I didn’t know you were coming, Jinyoung’s not here at the moment, do you —”

Bambam steps out of his tiny, stupid shoes and just walks towards the sofa, taking one step over the armrest with his long legs and then climbs into Jackson’s arms, minding the stomach (of course), tucking himself in between the backrest and Jackson, wrapping his long limbs around Jackson’s body.

“Hi, hyung,” Bambam says, _not_ sniffling, burrowing his entire head into Jackson’s shoulder. One of Jackson’s hands comes to rest on Bambam’s back, gently stroking as he sighs.

“Bad day?”

“No,” Bambam flat-out lies, because he feels like it. He’s a happy guy. He’s been in Korea for longer than he’s been in Thailand, being self-sufficient since he was _twelve_. He does not let _one_ bad day get in the way of his mood. But also, he says it because he wants Jackson to dig a bit deeper, to get the validation that comes with someone caring enough to ask follow-up questions. It’s a petty and childish thing to do. The only one Bambam would allow himself to act like this with is Jackson because Jackson can _also_ be petty and childish.

Jackson does not disappoint because he tugs on Bambam’s ear, huffing in annoyance, and something tight unfurls in Bambam’s chest as Jackson continues, his raspy voice a cross between gentle and impatient.

“Did something happen?”

“I woke up late,” Bambam frowns, nuzzling deeper into Jackson’s shoulder and large, fluffy hoodie, the one that is more a blanket than clothes. It curves and falls over Jackson’s stomach, which seems to be growing like, significantly bigger every day. Bambam sighs, placing a hand over the swell of Jackson’s belly, taking comfort in the intimacy of the action, “And my designs weren’t chosen for the final product,” Bambam curls his fingers over Jackson’s stomach, one leg hooked over Jackson’s upper thighs, “Even though I thought they were really good.”

It’s quiet, the way Bambam says those last words because that’s where things feel revealing. He really thought his suggestions had been good, and he’d _bragged_ about it to people, that he felt so secure in his work. Bambam doesn’t really believe in shame, and had it been a better day, he probably wouldn’t have cared about it much. But, like, when it’s a bad day it just — Bambam _knows_ that people think he’s a bit braggy and a bit of a show-off. He doesn’t mind it. He _minds_ when people might think he can’t back it up.

“Okay,” Jackson murmurs back, unhelpfully, but still stroking his hand over Bambam’s back, not moving so that Bambam can keep the curl of his hand on Jackson’s stomach, “Then you’ll get picked the next time.”

“But what if I’m _not_ ,” Bambam whines, rubbing his cheek against Jackson’s shoulder, “They said my designs were _weird_!”

“Then you get picked the time after that,” Jackson sighs, “Or the time after —”

Bambam grumbles a wordless interruption, and while he finishes his grumble with a soft whine, he sighs and relaxes against Jackson’s warm body. He melts against the new softness of it, not only in the padding of fat over his hips and thighs, but also in the quiet acceptance of a less active life (and Jinyoung’s maniacal dedication to keeping his fridge stocked with Jackson’s Favourite Foods at all times). There’s a new day tomorrow, Jackson-hyung is right about that.

Jackson’s hand is warm on his back, gently tracing soothing circles. There is a moment of quiet, where Bambam lets himself be a little bit sad, a little bit off-kilter, and take comfort in what Jackson offers.

“You’re great at what you do, Bammie,” Jackson murmurs, under his breath, “Sometimes the rest of the world is just going to need some time catching up to where your mind already is.”

 _Oh_.

Bambam breathes, feels a knot of stress come loose from around his heart, finally easing his heartbeat back into something resembling normal. He tightens his hold on Jackson, curling himself a little smaller, breathing a little easier. Bambam swallows. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right?

“You’re going to be a good dad,” Bambam says against Jackson’s shoulder, “I don’t know if you’re worried about that, but, like, if you _are_ —” he sighs, “— you don’t have to be. You’ll be great.”

There is a soft, quiet little sound escaping from Jackson. Bambam won’t even comment on it. _That’s_ how warm he is right now, cuddled tightly against Jackson.

They lay there in silence for a while, until Bambam releases a long, steady breath, feeling a lot better.

“We’re not telling anyone about this, right?” Bambam says, carefully inviting normalcy back in on the back of a joke, and trusts Jackson to roll with it.

“Oh, never,” Jackson says, snorting, squeezing Bambam’s shoulder, “I’d have to kill you to save myself the embarrassment.”

“I’d like to see you _try_ ,” Bambam sniffs and then grins into Jackson’s hoodie. They can both pretend as though they are both very subtle in their mutual affection. Jinyoung would never let him live it down if he knew just how soft Bambam could get. Of course, it’s very probable that Jinyoung wouldn’t even notice right now, busy as he is staring at Jackson every moment he can.

It’s honestly very funny. It’s even funnier that Jackson isn’t noticing it, blindspot that he has about it. Bambam has been thinking about telling Jackson about it, but he really doesn’t think Jackson is completely ready for it and besides, Jinyoung had been _mean_ , when Jackson confessed that first time. He can suffer a bit now. And besides, like earlier mentioned, it’s really funny, and as such Bambam will just let all of this develop naturally.

There is the sound of a key in the lock, and then Yugyeom comes in, probably called into action by the tingling ‘best-friend' sense they share.

“Oh, cuddles!” Yugyeom exclaims, dropping his jacket, keys, and shoes in a trailing mess on the floor as he does the same thing as Bambam and just steps into the couch to wrap his arms around both Bambam and Jackson. It’s a really tight squeeze, but he somehow manages to fit around a pregnant Jackson and their combined grumbling.

“You’re getting so soft, Jackson-hyung,” Yugyeom sighs, rubbing his face against Jackson’s hair. Jackson just rolls his eyes.

“By the way, how do both of you have keys?” Jackson asks, probably so that they don’t start talking about how Jackson, when he’s not wearing an enormous hoodie-blanket, is definitely gaining a _cleavage_.

“We stole Jinyoungie-hyung’s keys,” Yugyeom sighs, burrowing deeper, interlacing his hand with Bambam’s on top of Jackson’s stomach. They share a look, and Bambam smiles softly, which makes Yugyeom relax a bit in the knowledge that Bambam’s fine and all better.

“Yeah, we made a lot of copies,” Bambam nods sagely, “In case of an emergency.”

“... Ah.” Jackson answers, “How incredibly considerate of you.

“We know,” Bambam and Yugyeom answer in tandem in a sigh, cuddling closer.

**Coda**

_A bit later, in the kitchen._

“So, you know about the keys, right?” Jackson asks Jinyoung, leaning closer as Jinyoung cooks, adding Jackson’s favorite bits of food into the pot. Bambam and Yugyeom are playing chess, the only game Jinyoung owns on principle, despite him being shit at it. Jackson watches Jinyoung’s adorable large ears get a bit red, notices it, and slowly tucks the knowledge away together with the impulse to trace his fingers over the shell of Jinyoung’s ear.

“Of course I do,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “I’m not an idiot.”

Jackson laughs brightly at that, and Jinyoung looks at him, his eyes warm and Jackson feels an answering burst of _something_ in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short and sweet update today! the next one is going to be a bit meatier, but i really like these little interludes with the boys all getting their alone time with jackson.
> 
> so yeah.
> 
> bambam is so fucking hard to write. that's the last thing i'll say on the subject because i've whined to everyone about it. but i am really happy where i ended up in the end!
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	11. 23 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

Jackson mutters to himself as he tries to settle down on the sofa in order to look up some stuff he’s been thinking about buying. He’s starting to get big enough to walk with a slight waddle, which is honestly kinda humiliating. Youngjae said he looked like a penguin, which Yugyeom had said was _adorable_ , which is why Jackson is going to keep Yugyeom in his will but cut out Youngjae as soon as he can catch his breath for long enough to call his family lawyer.

He grimaces as he strokes over the small of his back as the baby shifts and moves in his belly, her movements restless and a bit grumpy. Jackson can basically hear the way she whines as she tries to find a spot comfortable enough to sleep. He sighs softly, stroking his thumb over the place where he can feel her and her movements. She’s got a lot of him in her, hm? His mom had laughed when he’d complained about how she never _truly_ seems to be still and told him he had been the same, constantly moving around until he decided to come out. _I didn’t sleep a full night for half the pregnancy, Gaga_ ,she’d told him, laughing as he whined.

With a small little huff, he feels her calm down and he turns his attention back to the computer. He’s been keeping up with work, at least. The good thing about being a freelance translator is that you can work from anywhere, especially if you, like Jackson, mostly do academic translations after Henry offered to shoulder the more in-person events. But it’s not work that makes him sit down today, no, it’s something else.

“You want some tea, Jackson-ah?” Jinyoung asks from the kitchen, making Jackson look his way.

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks,” Jackson answers, the two of them sharing a smile before Jinyoung turns back to the kettle. Jackson zones out for a bit, watching Jinyoung work at the counter, the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up to his elbow. The muscles in his forearms flex slightly as he turns the tap to fill the kettle. Jackson hums softly seeing it. A small, warm flare of interest spark along his spine, enough to startle him out of his reverie and make him flush. _Damn hormones_ , Jackson thinks, running his thumbs along his warm cheeks, digging into the soft flesh as he looks back to his computer.

Sighing, he pushes the thoughts away, locking them tightly into whatever little drawer he keeps his old feelings for Jinyoung in. Jackson is delirious with happiness about the status of their friendship since they talked about what happened three years ago, their lives suddenly starting to fit around each other with a lot more comfort than before. The problem is that with Jackson’s raging hormones he’s just... _noticing_ Jinyoung a lot. He’s aware that Jinyoung is handsome (just like he’s aware that water’s wet), but he’s been noticing it _differently_ lately—

_Stop it_.

Jackson’s staring again. He makes an exasperated movement with his fingers, placing both hands on either side of his face and forcing himself to look back at the screen. _Focus_ , _Wang_ , he thinks, the voice of the reprimand eerily sounding very much like his old fencing coach. Jackson shakes his head with both hands still on his cheeks, hindering the movement.

Okay.

He settles one hand on his stomach as he leans forward with a bit of a groan, the movement a lot more clunky than he’s used to, a body still learning to work around the extra weight. He taps on the mouse pad, types in the web page, and what comes up first is one of those ad-pages, the kind that takes up the whole screen and you have to click past. It’s for a car or something, but that’s not the ad that catches Jackson’s eyes. No, underneath the large, impersonal image of a chrome-gleaming car is a smaller ad for a local restaurant.

_Spend your Christmas with us!_ It says, in Papyrus font over a slightly too cool-toned picture of a Christmas dinner, _Book now!_ and then a phone number, in bold comic sans. The address shows that it’s located not too far from here, probably just a small local restaurant.

_Huh_ , he thinks, a bit idly.He’s never even thought about spending Christmas at a restaurant. His father has always been a show-off when it comes to food, eager and proud to serve serving after serving of a plethora of different food, painstakingly put together over _days_. His dad would invite the entire neighborhood if he could, but mom usually puts a stop at around 20 guests... Ah. He clears his throat. He’s not going to spend Christmas at home this year, he’s — he’s going to be here, isn’t he? His mom isn’t well enough to travel extensively, and they want to wait until the baby is born so she can stay for longer and doesn’t have to go back and forth...

Oh, that’s sad, isn’t it? He hasn’t really thought about it, but now that he _is_ , he’s sad about how he’s not going to be home for Christmas, but at least he has his boys and Yugyeom’s parents have invited all of them for dinner which is going to be _fantastic_ (Jackson can’t wait to introduce the baby-belly to Euigyeom, if she has taste, which she does, she’ll love him). But — well, what if he _hadn’t_? What if he was all alone?

Then he probably would’ve ordered a table at that restaurant. You know, to try and get some company? It wouldn’t be like being surrounded by friends and family, but it’d be less lonely than sitting at home, like he did his first Christmas in Korea, barely three weeks into a new job, curled up in an apartment he could barely afford but was still pretty horrible... Oh, he would go to the restaurant. But what if he’d be the _only_ one there? He’d go for company, but then he’d be the only one, the restaurant completely empty, only him at the table, alone, the waiting staff irritated because they have to be there for Christmas. After all, Jackson had decided to be selfish and book a table.

Or... Or they’d be so relieved to see him because they’d spent all their last money on that ad because their business is failing. He knows how hard it is, keeping a company afloat in tough times. And he’s the _only_ one that showed up, and that won’t _change_ anything for these poor people. The waiting staff that had worked so hard to make the restaurant nice and inviting standing by the door, waiting for people that won’t show up. The cook who’d slaved for a week, making all the nice food for the buffet, his eyes drooping sadly as he slowly throws away every little scrap...

The owners telling their daughter that they’re so sorry, but there might not be any presents this year, maybe next year and it’s not the _first_ time they’ve said this but they hope, they _wish_ , it’ll be the last —

Jackson sniffs, once, and then promptly bursts out crying, wiping his eyes on the soft grey fabric of his sweater. His entire heart feels like it renders in his chest as he thinks about the little girl being brave for her parents, saying it’s okay when it’s clearly not, and Jackson sitting there all alone by one of the tables, not _enough_.

“Seun-ah?” Jinyoung says, the kettle and mugs clattering as he puts them down hastily on the counter, “Seun-ah, what’s wrong?” Jackson tries to take a breath but it’s just — _God_ , what if the _cook_ has children too?

He inhales in the middle of a sob, bursting out in a fresh round of tears as he hears Jinyoung’s hurried footsteps before being wrapped into Jinyoung’s embrace. Jinyoung cradles the back of his head and Jackson burrows his face down into Jinyoung’s shoulder, curling his fingers in Jinyoung’s cardigan, not even caring that he’s staining it with snot and tears.

“Seun-ah, talk to me, what happened?”

“I can’t buy the entire _restaurant_ ,” Jackson sobs, digging his fingers into Jinyoung’s knitted cardigan, “I have to save my money for _my_ baby, but what about their _daughter_ —” A fresh wave of tears comes over him as he thinks about the _unfairness_ of it all.

“What restaurant?” Jinyoung rubs his back, “Okay, take a breath, c’mon —” he exaggerates his breathing so much that his nose starts to whistle a bit. Jackson nods as Jinyoung tugs him off his shoulder, grasping him by the biceps as he catches and holds Jackson’s red, swollen gaze. Slowly, Jackson’s breathing becomes a bit more regular underneath Jinyoung’s whistling, insistent guiding, even though he still sobs and sniffs gently, “Seun-ah?” Jinyoung says, softly, “What happened?”

Jackson waves towards the computer while burrowing back into Jinyoung’s arms, Jinyoung curling them around him as he squints at the screen.

“You're crying because of a... car commercial?” Jinyoung tries, carefully, rubbing a hand over Jackson’s back, “Because the car is, uh, expensive?” he continues, trying to sound as though he not only empathizes with the feeling but grasps the situation fully.

“ _No!_ ” Jackson slaps at Jinyoung’s chest, “No, the _other_ ad,” he motions at the little cheery _Spend your Christmas with us!_ while also thinking about the owner sitting in front of the computer, painstakingly creating the graphic, being so _proud_ of it, thinking that this will surely save his business — Jackson gasps out another heaving sob, rubbing his nose snotty nose against Jinyoung’s neck.

“... Okay?“ Jinyoung says, holding Jackson a little tighter, “Okay, you’re sad because of the restaurant down the street.”

“What if no one shows up,” Jackson garbles, “What if they go _bankrupt_?”

“It’s really popular, I don’t think —” Jinyoung pauses, runs a hand through Jackson’s hair, cradles the back of it in that way that Jackson just loves, “Do you want me to call them?” Jinyoung breathes out, voice soft and gentle, “Check if they have any bookings?”

“ _Please_ ,” Jackson sniffs, taking a deep, shaky inhale of a breath.

Jinyoung, without letting go of Jackson, pulling Jackson more fully into his lap, takes his phone and dials the number, holding it up to his ear. Jackson distantly hears the low, piercing sound of a dial-up tone. There is a cheerful _Hello and welcome to Gerege, how can I help you?_ and Jackson rubs his nose against Jinyoung’s throat, eyes fluttering shut as he feels the vibration of Jinyoung’s voice against his skin.

“Yes, hi, I’m just wondering about your Christmas reservations, I’m thinking about booking with some friends but I’d like to know how fast we’d have to decide —”

The person on the other end interrupts him, the voice talking quick and fast-paced, in enough of an accent to make it hard for Jackson to follow along if he’s not concentrating.

“Okay,” Jinyoung hums back, “Yeah, okay, I got it, thanks,” he makes some very polite goodbyes and then hangs up, placing the phone on the sofa table, going back to rubbing Jackson’s back.

“They’re almost fully booked,” Jinyoung murmurs, gently, “They told me to decide quickly, they almost have no tables left for the entirety of Christmas week.”

“Oh,” Jackson breathes, tension seeping out of him, sadness slowly slipping out with each shaky breath, “Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” Jinyoung sighs.

Jackson takes one last, quivering breath, nuzzling close to Jinyoung, resting his head against Jinyoung’s nice, broad shoulder.

They sit like that, for a couple of moments, Jackson feeling safe and warm.

“What were you looking at?” Jinyoung says when Jackson pulls back, rubbing his sleeve over his eyes.

“Huh?” Jackson looks up, Jinyoung still being kind of blurry since Jackson is wearing neither glasses nor contacts and just had a massive bout of crying, “Oh, yeah, I was going to look at reviews for sex toys,” Jackson sniffs, grimacing as he rubs hands over his cheeks, “Aw, my entire face is hurting —”

“Sex toys?” Jinyoung breathes out, his hand stilling from where it was rubbing comfort onto Jackson’s shoulder, “Uh —”

“I’m so _horny_ ,” Jackson groans, the low, raspy sound coming out with all the breathy vibrato of a whine, “Like, _all the time_ , yeah?” He stretches his entire back, wincing as his spine pops, relaxing some of the tension, “And Yeona-noona said that I should look up sex toys because apparently it’s going to get more difficult to —” he jerks his head a bit, looking meaningfully downwards, “— _you know_ , because my stomach’s just getting bigger.”

On that last word, Jackson places one hand on the small of his back, rests the other one on the swell of his stomach, smiling a bit sardonically, “So I looked it up, and apparently there’s this one that’s supposed to be really good, but I wanted to check out some testimonials before —” he finally looks at Jinyoung, who is... just staring at him, cheeks flushed. Jackson frowns, tilts his head a bit perplexedly, “Jinyoungie?”

“Uh, yeah, what?” Jinyoung shakes his head, blinks at Jackson, “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was _saying_ —” Jackson sighs, but then groans as the baby, in another angry little fit of movement, decides to press her entire little body against his _bladder_ , “Fuck!” Jackson swears, flailing and kicking out his feet, disentangling himself from the blanket, “ _Move_ , I have to pee!”

“Wh —” Jinyoung yelps as he is hit over the head with one of Jackson’s flailing limbs, tumbling to the floor.

“Move move move move _move_ ,” Jackson chants, shoving Jinyoung to the side, quickly waddling off towards the bathroom, one hand still resting on his stomach, “ _Fuck_ fuck fuck —” he slams the door shut.

Jinyoung, meanwhile, just stares at where Jackson had disappeared, his cheeks flushed and red. He blinks, once, and then slowly just lays down on his back on the floor, clasping his hands over his stomach, staring up at the ceiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay look... i'm really sorry this took so long, but it's just been a tough week at the tail-end of a tough month and... yeah. it just took a long time to get this chapter done.
> 
> this chapter references the time my sister, whom i saw laugh straight in the paramedics face as they told her she should stop waving her broken arm around because the bone pipe was sticking out of it, started crying because she saw a picture of two smiling people who might (or might not, since there was no indication of it whatsoever) get a divorce because they looked "kind of sad". pregnancy hormones, guys. they're wild. 
> 
> I want to give a huge thanks to the commenters! It's been a rough the last couple of weeks. you've really really made it better. <3
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	12. 24 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

“Oh, Jinyoungie-hyung, would you mind getting me some ice?” Yugyeom asks, twirling his glass of lemonade, his eyes so big he can be nothing but innocent, but Jinyoung, Who Knows The Truth, just narrows his eyes at him. Jackson is on the couch, laying with his head in Youngjae’s lap and his legs over Yugyeom’s long legs. He’s wearing that ridiculous blanket-hoodie that’s so big he’s swimming in it even though Bambam has cuddled up underneath it and curled himself around Jackson’s body.

Jackson looks so warm and comfortable, his hair fluffy and undone, without any gel or products. If Jinyoung hadn’t lived with this erratic heartbeat for the last three months, he’d been more worried about the staccato beat it’s currently doing. Jinyoung’s, frankly, a sucker for Jackson looking warm and comfortable and _unbothered_. That, in and of itself, is not too bad. The problem is that the _rest_ of them know it too. Which is why they’ve been asking Jinyoung to do _tasks_ the entire evening, like some sort of butler or _dog_. Bambam, his sly and narrowed eyes barely visible over the wide collar of Jackson’s blanket hoodie, looks very amused.

“For me too, hyung, please,” Bambam pipes up, his eyes shifting from sly and narrowed to sly and _grinning_.

Jackson makes a low, soft sound in complaint without opening his eyes, one hand resting in Bambam’s hair, gently stroking over Bambam’s newly dyed red hair. Youngjae murmurs something in comfort, threading his own hand through Jackson’s hair. Jackson nuzzles closer to Youngjae’s hand, murmuring softly underneath his breath. Yugyeom looks over at Jinyoung, a grin spreading lazily over his entire face, splitting it in two.

_Fuck_.

Jinyoung jerkily gets up from his seat in the armchair next to the sofa, glaring at his three grinning “friends” as he makes his way out to the kitchen. He gets some ice into a bowl, stabbing a spoon into it as though he has revenge to exact, before stalking back. He digs out a small, splintered bit of ice and holds it between his fingers, smiling with all his teeth as he holds the bowl out for Yugyeom to take. As Yugyeom reaches for them, Jinyoung presses his ice-cold fingers against Yugyeom’s neck, making him yelp and flail his long limbs.

“Don’t disturb Jackson-ah, _Yugyeommie_ ,” Jinyoung tuts and sneers as Yugyeom gasps with betrayal. Jinyoung settles back into his armchair, turning his attention to the drama on the tv with the single-minded focus of a man at the end of his rope.

Jackson makes a low sound of displeasure as Yugyeom tries to kick at Jinyoung, who simply lifts his own legs out of the way without even looking back at him. Yugyeom grimaces, putting his hand on Jackson’s leg, stroking over the hairy calf.

“Sorry, hyung.”

“S’okay, Yugyeommie,” Jackson mutters, lazily waving a hand in Yugyeom’s direction until Yugyeom leans forward and lets Jackson pet at his cheek.

The sight makes Jinyoung’s heart feel both light and heavy in his chest all at once. Jackson has always been caring, even in the beginning when he tried to hide it underneath some kind of college fuckboy persona. But recently, it’s been... _more_. Jackson has been leaning into his caring nature, consciously or unconsciously, and it’s been making Jinyoung’s heart flip and his stomach grow syrupy and warm. The domesticity of Jackson cuddling with Bambam, Youngjae, and Yugyeom somehow cracks at Jinyoung’s shields even more than when Jackson casually mentions being horny or when Jinyoung’s defenses fail and he thinks about the new sex toy that Jackson bought (Jinyoung thinks Jackson really likes it, he’s not sure, there’s this buzzing noise that gets very loud in his ear every time Jackson mentions it).

“You want something, Jackson-hyung?” Youngjae murmurs softly, twinning a lock of Jackson’s hair around his finger.

“No, it’s okay,” Jackson answers back sleepily, whining a bit when Youngjae stops petting his hair and then settling down again when Youngjae laughs and starts up his administrations again. Jinyoung’s heart, which increasingly starts to feel like a sentient being outside of himself, doesn’t seem to know what it’s doing. It’s beating erratically, expanding and growing, growing itself around Jackson’s presence in his life that feels almost dangerous.

For some reason, Jinyoung had thought that maybe the close proximity to Jackson would calm him down, would slowly ease away the edges of his crush until only friendship remains. Instead, the fact that they are living together makes everything _worse_. Jackson is fantastic, earnest, and funny. Even _more_ so than he used to be, his personality deepened by a life lived, his sharper edges worn kinder over the years.

And, _beyond_ that (Jinyoung can basically hear Jaebeom’s disgusted snort), Jackson is beautiful when pregnant. His skin is glowing and his hair lustrous, he has started to walk a bit bow-legged, one hand on his stomach and the other rubbing on his back. Jackson’s entire body has grown thicker, a softening layer of fat around his natural and earned strength, but Jackson’s thighs have grown positively _plush_. This is especially tangible when Jackson walks around in only his boxers and a sleeping shirt, which is just unfair because while Jinyoung should ask him to stop but would rather cut off his own arm than do so. Especially when Jackson comes out from his room when Jinyoung’s been gone for the day, a bit flushed, a bit giggly, and Jinyoung has to —

Okay. Look. Jinyoung has _not_ been thinking about the sex toy, even though he did, in a moment of weakness, check what exactly it was. The toy in question was “just” a vibe, nothing special, but it is apparently high class and slightly on the end of luxurious. As soon as he’d seen the testimonials, one of which went _the first time I used it I came so hard I started crying_ , he’d simply pursed his lips and closed down the website and decided to Not Think About It.

After that, he’s been Not Thinking about it all the time. He simply ignores it, shying away from the abstract thought of Jackson and pleasure like a twice-burned cat. He feels like madness lies that way, especially since he can’t stop thinking about the way Jackson’s thighs flush out when he sits down, the soft flesh expanding —

“Hyung,” Yugyeom says, with a large innocent blink of his dark, fawn-like eyes which makes Jinyoung snap his attention back to the present. Jinyoung bares his teeth in a facsimile of a smile back while Yugyeom simply curls his own lips back in a faux-innocent smile, “Could you get me —”

Bambam suddenly yelps and flails, making everyone presently on the sofa startle. His head lifts up Jackson’s hoodie, as he hurriedly scurries to stick his head out next to Jackson’s through the wide collar. Jackson frowns at him, grumpily and sleepily.

“I felt that!” Bambam exclaims loudly, his large brown eyes wide and full lips open in a soft little _o_ , “I felt baby!”

“Oh,” Jackson answers, blinking into sudden awakeness, “You did? She — she’s been kicking a bit all day, but you —”

“I felt it!” Bambam says excitedly, diving back underneath Jackson’s shirt, coming out at the end of it, rucking it up to show off Jackson’s stomach, a sizeable swell of tan skin and belly. Jackson quickly helps to hold it up, letting Bambam spread his long fingers over Jackson’s bare skin.

“C’mon baby, give a little kick for your favorite uncle —” he mutters and as Jackson winces, Bambam laughs out loud, “She’s _strong_! You weren’t lying!”

“Why would I lie?” Jackson rolls his eyes, but then he smiles as Yugyeom hurriedly presses his hand over his belly too. Youngjae leans over to do the same. They all yelp at another kick after a moment of expectant waiting, excitedly starting to chatter. Jackson waves all of them away with a bit of a sigh, pulling down his sweater and smoothing the fabric out. Jackson shakes his head and smiles as he reaches out to gently place a lock of Bambam’s hair behind one of Bambam’s large ears as he smiles softly.

“She said hi, huh?”

Bambam just stares at Jackson and then blinks, rapidly, a couple of times before hurriedly scrambling away with a slightly garbled _bathroom_. Yugyeom gives Jackson a big, vibrant smile and then goes to fetch Bambam back before he tries to do something like climb out a window out of embarrassment for the sudden burst of emotions. Youngjae, meanwhile, just smiles and keeps a hand on Jackson’s stomach again. He does an exaggerated _oh!_ and then gives a loud, bright laugh the moment he feels another kick. And Jackson... Jackson looks so _proud_. That’s the part that makes Jinyoung’s heart threaten to break his ribs in half. The fact that Jackson looks so proud. Of _them_ , of _himself_ , of his _baby_ for having a strong kick...

“I _told_ you I’d be the favorite!” Bambam shouts as he skids back into the living room, his eyes suspiciously red-rimmed with Yugyeom trailing behind him, “She _knows_ I’ll be the best one, that’s why —”

“No, you’re not!” Yugyeom gasps, outrageously and loudly, leveling a kick at Bambam’s back that makes Bambam squawk and smack Yugyeom over the head, “We agreed that we aren’t going to choose for her. When she’s out, she’ll get to choose —”

“She was probably just kicking you to tell you to be quieter, anyway,” Youngjae laughs, patting at Jackson’s stomach, “Besides, once she’s out, _your_ place of being _Jackson’s_ favorite is going to be taken by her so by then it’ll be fairer anyway.”

“Lies! I was completely silent and —” Bambam seems to grapple with how he both wants to look pleased and dismayed at being called Jackson’s favorite, but then instead, somehow, decides to say, “— and I’ll _still_ be his favorite _boy_ anyway!”

There is a moment of silence as Bambam’s words land, settling into the room like a free early Christmas gift before Yugyeom and Youngjae both start to laugh uproariously. Bambam flushes bright red and disappears into the bathroom again as Yugyeom cheerfully catches him by the collar and pulls him back into the living room again.

Jinyoung and Jackson share a glance, Jackson’s hand is curled on his stomach, petting gently and at the back of Jackson’s soft smile, Jinyoung feels his heart swell and ache, his love so great it envelopes the entirety of the apartment, spilling out into every corner.

**Coda**

_In the kitchen, doing the dishes_

Jackson is still humming happily as he’s helping Jinyoung do the dishes, taking each glass and plate to dry them off with a towel. Jinyoung hums along to the song on the radio, his head moving in sync to the beat, making the long, beautiful curtains of his hair bob along. Jackson is feeling happy, content in a way that completely swallows the low, gentle little sadness of a-Shu not being here. That particular ache has been a constant undercurrent to his life and has been so for the last five months but —

She kicks again, leveling a grumpy little twitch of leg to get his attention, and Jackson gasps, hurriedly putting away the towel and plate.

“Jinyoungie,” he says, the old nickname slipping out of him without thinking, “She’s kicking, feel —”

“Ah,” Jinyoung blinks, “My hands —” he holds them up, still wet and stained with suds, looking apologetic but Jackson just rolls his eyes and takes it, presses it against his belly underneath his shirt, shivering a bit at the wet touch on his skin.

For a quiet, trembling little moment there is nothing but the pop song on the radio, turned down a bit too low to properly hear the bass. And then she kicks again, a little bit softer, but definitely there.

Jinyoung does the low, quiet little huff of laughter he does sometimes, glancing at Jackson with the mirth of that small smile playing in his eyes. His thumb shifts, strokes over Jackson’s hand where they are intertwined. The baby almost immediately quiets, lulls down into something more silent and content, quieted by Jinyoung’s presence. _Same, baby_ , Jackson thinks, feeling his own heartbeat steady and hard against his chest, centering around where Jinyoung’s wet hand is pressed against his stomach.

“I can’t wait to meet you,” Jinyoung murmurs softly to the belly, stroking his thumb gently over the place where the baby kicked, his touch so incredibly gentle, “There’s a whole, wide world for you to kick around in when you’re ready.”

Jackson feels his heart flip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay! i am back in the game and i'm trying to keep my spirits high! i love this story, and i love the comments i get that people really like it too, and the way it makes people happy!
> 
> baby's do not kick all the time, and 24 weeks is still pretty early to feel such a hefty kicker, but jackson's baby is probably BORED being stuck inside and that's the excuse i'm sticking to.
> 
> please, don't hesitate to write me a comment if you like the story, it literally makes my entire day!!!


	13. 27 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

Youngjae hums a bit as he pours himself a glass of orange juice, ending the little tune with a sigh as he sits down to wait next to Yugyeom. Yugyeom is tapping his fingers against the wooden table in some kind of facsimile to his latest dancing routine, both of them waiting for Jackson to get ready. Now, Jackson is usually not the one to make them wait (that spot proudly belongs to Bambam and Jaebeom, who are the absolute worst at being on time in their own wildly different ways), but Jackson is currently in the bathroom, changing his shirt which had been, uh, made _unusable_ because of Jackson’s newly found talent for lactation.

“I guess we should just be glad Jinyoungie-hyung isn’t here,” Youngjae sighs while taking a sip of his juice with an almost contemplative air, “At least we don’t have to watch him have a breakdown about Jackson-hyung’s cleavage again.”

“It’s not even that much of a cleavage,” Yugyeom shakes his head, smiling as he looks over to Youngjae, “But be nice, Jinyoung is doing his best, and Jackson is being _very_ dense.”

“Exceptionally dense,” Youngjae agrees easily, “But then again, Jinyoung is being a bit dense too. Did you hear Bambam’s story about how Jackson reacted to Jinyoung having a bit of stubble?”

Yugyeom nods, placing his cheek in his hand, grinning as he remembers Bambam’s animated re-enactment of the moment in question, “Yeah, gosh, they really deserve each other.”

“Truly,” Youngjae smiles, tapping his fingers against the cool surface of his glass, “Star-crossed idiots.”

“I just want Jinyoung-hyung to get that he loves Jackson out into the air before Jackson decides to go back home with the baby,” Yugyeom pouts as he leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m never going to beat Bam-ah for ‘best-uncle’ if I’m not physically close enough to the baby to boast about how tall I am.”

“Yeah,” Youngjae nods with a small shake of his head. He doesn’t mention how _neither_ Yugyeom nor Bambam will become ‘best-uncle’, because Youngjae has that title in the _bag_.

“He really should think about _us!_ ” Yugyeom finishes with a huff.

“He really should,” Youngjae agrees and gives a tiny little defeated exhale before continuing, as though Jinyoung being a disappointment in disclosing his feelings is somehow both rude and a bit personal, “And Jackson-ah has been better lately, hasn’t he? He’s been perking up quite a bit, right?”

“Well,” Yugyeom furrows his brow and unfurls his long limbs to tap a finger against his cheek, “He did cry yesterday about an abandoned slice of cheese on the counter because apparently, it looked really lonely?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s been better about Xiao Shu, hasn’t it?” Youngjae shrugs, looking to the closed door of the bathroom.

“That’s true...” Yugyeom says, tapping his chin in deep thought, “He hasn’t been quite as distraught about it. Yesterday he even mentioned him in passing without pausing afterward.”

As on cue, Jackson walks out from the bathroom, grumbling as he’s pulling on his shirt to make it lay better over his sizable stomach. The shirt itself looks a bit too big on him over the shoulders. It’s also _beige_ , which is a color Jackson owns nothing in because he believes it makes him look like an ajumma.

“This is going to end with me buying one of those lactation tops isn’t it, I can not _believe_ —”

“New shirt, hyung?” Youngjae asks innocently after a second of silence during which he shares a look with Yugyeom. They both know the answer.

“Oh?” Jackson blinks his large eyes and looks down at himself, “Oh, no, it’s Jinyoungie’s, he told me it was fine that I borrowed his shirts if I needed to.”

“And you’ve run out of yours?” Youngjae hums a bit, edging his voice with a lot of sympathy, taking a sip of his juice as he looks at Jackson over the edge of his glass, “You should tell Bam-ah, he’ll take you shopping again.”

“No, I —” Jackson tugs at the hem of his beige sweatshirt and then he flushes red as he frowns, seemingly actually thinking about it for the first time, “I — No, it —” Youngjae waits patiently, putting one hand on Yugyeom’s forearm as Yugyeom, with his big bleeding heart, wants to jump to Jackson’s aid. Youngjae loves Jackson just as much as Yugyeom, and he will protect his hyung to his dying breath, but sometimes the man needs a god damn _nudge_. Jackson quiets after that, frowning down at the shirt. Good enough, Youngjae thinks, breaking out into a big smile and breaking the tension like a needle masterfully breaking ice.

“You look fantastic, though, hyung! Have you gotten bigger? I feel like you’ve gotten bigger,” Youngjae asks loudly, bounding forward to step closer to Jackson.

“You saw me ten minutes ago!” Jackson squawks, releasing his grip on the sweater, huffing as he crosses his arms over his chest, a bit higher than usual because his stomach kind of stops the movement from where he usually places them. It lends Jackson a slightly clumsy, endearing air that Youngjae just so happens to enjoy in a very visceral way, “I have not gotten bigger since then!”

“Are you sure?” Youngjae says, breaking out into laughter as Jackson kind of sways forward to swat at him, the movement is clumsy because of just how large he is. His stomach is now impossible to hide, his walk more often a waddle than anything else. Jackson constantly seems to be standing and walking at a bit of a tilt. Jackson’s still hitting the gym but recently started going to proper pregnancy classes at the suggestion of his personal trainer, which he sulked about until he three minutes into the first class had booked five non-caffeine coffee dates with some of the other expecting parents. Ah, Youngjae thinks, even as he sidesteps Jackson’s swipe, Jackson-hyung really is extraordinarily pretty pregnant, with his thick swoopy hair and glowing skin. Being pregnant suits Jackson an awful lot, makes him look warm and earthy, steadies him and his endless restlessness to something like an enthusiastic glow. Yes, Jackson really is lovely, even with the odd creaking bones and heavy puffy sighs when he sometimes moves a bit too quickly for his body.

“Do not tease!” Jackson whines, turning to Yugyeom with large eyes, “Gyeommie, tell him —”

“Hyung, stop teasing hyung,” Yugyeom says immediately because he is whipped. Youngjae rolls his eyes but does stop to kiss Jackson’s cheek, which immediately calms Jackson down even though he will pretend like it didn’t. Jackson huffs at him, releasing a small little exhale as he pets a hand through Youngjae’s hair.

“Ready for your walk?” Yugyeom continues, reaching out to take Youngjae’s glass and put it into the sink.

“I am not a _dog,_ ” Jackson says, sniffing a bit haughtily, “But yes, I am ready for my _daily_ walk that you and my mother, who does not speak a word of Korean yet _you_ all manage to communicate with, pester me to take.”

“It’s better for the baby with simple daily exercise 20 to 30 minutes a day,” Yugyeom says wisely, with all the air of someone who either got the knowledge from his mother or from Jaebeom’s weird, growing knowledge bank of pregnancy-related facts and tidbits.

“I literally went to the gym this morning,” Jackson mutters underneath his breath, pausing to exhale and press a hand over his stomach, which kind of undermines his point, “I could _bench press_ you, beanpole!”

“I’m sure you could,” Yugyeom says, with so much warmth that it disarms whatever sarcasm Jackson might prepare in return and Jackson settles down with a grumble as they walk out into the hall to get their jackets.

Youngjae and Yugyeom talk between themselves as they dress, discussing what today’s walking goal should be (Jackson’s brain has been stewing in a bit too many hormones lately, and sometimes when asked to make a decision about something unimportant, he has a tendency to grow irritated). When they’ve both put on their outer clothes and reached a decision, they turn to look at Jackson who is just staring at his untied shoe, still not wearing a jacket.

“Hyung?” Youngjae blinks.

“Jackson-hyung, I know you don’t like the walks because you’re not allowed to jog, but honestly, it’s for your own —” Yugyeom starts gently.

“I can’t reach,” Jackson interrupts, his enormous eyes blinking down at the shoe and then up at them, his brown eyes almost impossibly dark. He furrows his brow and looks down at his shoe, as though it is somehow Thwarting him through wits.

“Uh —” Yugyeom falters as Youngjae swallows down a laugh which in turn makes Yugyeom swat at him, Youngjae simply grins and catches the hand to intertwine their fingers, holding them tight until Yugyeom stops trying to get Youngjae to release him.

“I’m too big, I can’t reach my shoe,” Jackson repeats, a bit slower, looking up at the ceiling in a very accusatory manner while placing one hand on his belly.

There is a moment of silence and then Youngjae snorts again, this time breaking out into loud laughter.

“Wow! And there’s still like three months to go!” Youngjae giggles and uses Yugyeom as a shield through the lieu of their joined hands as Jackson swats at him with a wail.

“Yes, thank you, _Youngjae-ah_ , I’m _aware_!” Jackson whines and then he just pouts, shaking his entire body in a frustrated little wiggle, “I’m too _big_ to tie my own _shoes!_ ”

“There there, hyung,” Youngjae says, petting over Jackson’s hair, saying hyung the way you’d say _good boy_ , “You want me to tie your shoe?”

“... Please,” Jackson says, after a moment of silence, flushing red as he places one hand on Yugyeom’s arm, steadying himself as Youngjae bends down and ties his shoelaces. Youngjae taps on Jackson’s ankle when he needs him to switch foot, which Jackson does without even grumbling about it.

When he’s done, Yugyeom takes down Jackson’s jacket and helping him into it. When that’s done, Yugyeom then stands obediently still as Jackson makes sure that Yugyeom’s scarf is tied correctly and then Youngjae bends his head to let Jackson tug his beanie down further down over Youngjae’s ears, grumbling _dress_ properly _, youngjae-ah, i get cold just looking at you_.

Youngjae holds out his arm for Jackson to take, which he does, after rolling his eyes a bit and they walk out, closing the door behind them.

“Maybe we should look into shoes that you can just step into?” Yugyeom says as Jackson locks the door, “I know they exist, my baby cousin has some since he doesn’t have the motor skills to tie his shoes yet.”

“We are going on the walk, Yugyeom, don’t fucking push it,” Jackson hisses as Youngjae laughs, loud and bright.

**Coda**

_Three days earlier, Saturday._

Jackson is grumbling as he walks around the kitchen, trying to be useful and putting the dishes back where they should be which is... difficult when lugging around all this new extra weight. He’s also trying to be quiet because Jinyoung had a late meeting with a client yesterday and drank enough to ignore Jackson’s rule of placing shoes properly in the shoe rack, which he _never_ does otherwise.

After the dishes, Jackson decides to make Jinyoung breakfast and he starts by cracking some eggs into a bowl, whisking them up with some cream and salt and pepper. Scrambled eggs and kimchi and a strong cup of coffee should get Jinyoung to feel better, even if Jackson is going to tease him a _little bit_ about being hungover. Hey, it’s his job as a friend, and Jackson takes that role and its responsibilities very seriously.

“Can you make some for me too, hyung?” Bambam asks from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, wearing a pair of outrageously patterned leggings paired with _Jackson’s_ blanket hoodie.

“I will, if I don’t freeze to death from _someone_ having stolen _my hoodie_ ,” Jackson mutters as he cracks a few more eggs into the bowl.

“Man, someone stole your hoodie?” Bambam says, not even looking up from his phone, “Really should get on that, stat,” Bambam effortlessly dodges Jackson’s bunched up towel thrown at his head, eyes still glued to his phone screen.

As he starts cooking, pouring the egg mixture into the heated pan, Jinyoung walks into the room, rubbing a hand over his eyes. His hair is messy, which Jackson notices first because that is a rare happenstance but the _second_ thing Jackson notices in as many seconds is that Jinyoung is... not wearing a shirt. Jackson blinks, tracing his eyes over Jinyoung’s broad chest, certainly bigger than a couple of years ago. It’s — look, they live together. It’s not the first time Jackson sees him without a shirt. He’s not — he’s not going to... embarrass himself. He’s just _appreciative_. Yeah! Like a _bro_ should be!

“Looking good, Jinyoungie!” Jackson says brightly, hitting the spatula into the charcoal looking parts of the eggs to break them up and make it less noticeable.

Jinyoung looks up at Jackson’s bright exclamation. He — wow, he hasn’t shaved. He has dark, heavy stubble wrapping around his chin and over his cheeks. Jackson, who kind of has a hair-trigger boner these days, just feels himself go _warm_. Heat spreads through his entire body as his brain slowly pieces together the _broad shoulders_ , the _big chest_ , the _low slung pants_ , and the _stubble_ into something like a wet dream suddenly had when wide awake. _I wonder how that stubble would feel against my thighs,_ Jackson thinks suddenly, like an invasive thought breaking through Jackson’s inner thought-walls like an overenthusiastic glass jug on a mission, _they’ve been so sensitive lately_.

“Making me breakfast, Seun-ah?” Jinyoung says, his melodic voice a bit gravelly and still stained with sleep as he stretches his long body, bringing one hand up to scratch at his stubble. Jackson follows the movement like a mouse watching a cat’s paw poised and ready to strike, “Thank you.”

“Guh —” Jackson answers, eloquently, “Uh —” he continues, feeling his entire body heat up even further because once that snowball started rolling, it’s just growing bigger and Jackson hasn’t had sex in _six months_ , there’s a lot of metaphorical snow for it to grab onto, “Eh —”

“Hyung, can you help me with something?” Bambam calls from the couch, motioning at Jinyoung who shrugs and sleepily shambles over. Bambam sends Jackson a look that seems to mean _you owe me_ and Jackson quickly presses his hands against his cheeks, patting over his cheeks with hands he wets in cold water.

Fucking _hormones_ , Jackson thinks, going back to his blackening eggs as Jinyoung bends over to squint at Bambam’s phone screen, as though he could somehow help Bambam when he yesterday had to get help to turn off the ‘do-not-disturb’-mode on his own phone. Jinyoung’s skin ripples over his muscular back in the dappling midday sun streaming in through the window and Jackson feels just a bit, just a tiny bit, discombobulated, as though his world has permanently been shifted, in an almost imperceptible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you have not truly lived through awkwardness until you have your six months pregnant sister tell you about how she's just happened to notice how SENSITIVE her inner thighs are during the third trimester, which just so happened to coincide with her husband growing a dad-beard.
> 
> i have indeed helped my sisters tie their shoes. because they got too big to do it themselves. it's not funny, but it's also not not funny, you know?
> 
> i can not begin to tell you how much your comments mean to me!! they really help me get through and post even when the goings are tough, as they are right now. i have not answered last chapters comments yet, but i will do it as soon as possible, but i wanted to get the chapter out as quickly as possible.
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	14. 30 weeks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

Jaebeom really should’ve known that something was wrong the moment he stepped through the door Instead of an over-enthusiastic greeting that stretches just beyond Jaebeom’s well-established comfort zone, Jackson had just given a slightly distracted _hi hyung_ and then gone back to staring contemplatively at the loop of day-time television commercials currently selling something that could either be work-out equipment or a sex-toy, it could honestly be either. Now, the distracted staring at day-time television is _not_ necessarily a warning sign, because Jackson enjoys enthusiasm and has on more than one occasion declared that he finds the slightly too loud and too bright infomercial voices ‘soothing’. But, beyond that, there are several other hints, like the furrowed brow, or Jackson’s complete lack of loud amusement at the over-acting.

But, honestly, Jaebeom doesn’t really start paying attention to that until he’s done unloading the groceries. He is just about to ask Jackson where he wants to walk today, since it’s Jaebeom’s turn for that privilege, when he’s noticing Jackson’s distant stare and furrowed brow.

Jaebeom squints suspiciously over at Jackson. The last time Jackson was quiet like this he told them he was pregnant, which doesn’t set a great precedent for where this is heading. Jaebeom is pretty sure that Jackson can’t be pregnant _again_ , but honestly, with Jinyoung’s increasingly tight-eyed smile in response to Jaebeom’s daily ‘ _how horny is jinyoung-ah today’-_ check-in and Jackson’s general propensity for the impossible, he wouldn’t bet on it.

“Are you alright?” Jaebeom asks, trying to sound both casual and careful at the same time as he washes his hands for longer than necessary because he thinks the action somehow helps with the casualty of the question.

“Uh?” Jackson looks over, blinking his large eyes as his brow unknots just a bit, “Oh! Yeah? Yeah, I’m great,” Jackson looks over at the television, his brow furrowing again, “... Wait, wasn’t I watching a show?”

“... What’s going on, Seun-ah?” Jaebeom asks with a sigh, wiping his hands off on a tea towel and walking to the couch upon which Jackson is sitting, his fluffy-socked feet up on a small ottoman. Jaebeom _knows_ Jinyoung bought that piece of furniture specifically for Jackson but Jinyoung just pretends he has suddenly lost the ability to see or hear anything when Jaebeom tries to send meaningful glances at it.

Jackson sighs, rubbing a hand over his bare stomach. He’s rucked up his shirt and folded down the high elastic waistband of his pants so that his stomach is hanging out because Jackson still firmly believes in his stomach needing airing, pregnant or not. Jackson strokes his hand over the bottom of his stomach, down over the slightly glistening skin made possible by the oil Jackson’s mother sends over to help with the stretch marks. He sends a small, slightly nervous glance Jaebeom’s way, and if it’s obvious enough to make Jaebeom notice it (he’s not emotionally dense, he’s emotionally _challenged_ ), it’s not only a thing. It’s a _thing_.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Jaebeom continues, sitting down next to Jackson on the large couch before placing a hand on his shoulder, “I hope I’ve proven that much, over the last couple of months.”

“You have,“ Jackson sighs, placing one hand over the one Jaebeom has on his shoulder, “It’s just... weird.”’

“Well, the last few months have been pretty weird in general, so I don’t think —”

“Are, like, wet dreams a result of hormones?” Jackson asks, blurting it out in the middle of Jaebeom’s sentence. Jaebeom blinks.

“Uh —” Jaebeom answers, like the award-winning poet that he is. He looks at Jackson, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Jackson huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “You’re a pervert, Lim Jaebeom, don’t try to deny it, you’ve looked this up and I know it. So, please, are wet dreams a part of —” motions to himself and his bump, resting a hand over the oil-glistening golden skin, “— _this_?”

Jaebeom clears his throat and tries avoiding Jackson’s large, beguiling gaze to retain some dignity and reputation, but in the end, he does a small little defeated sound and shrugs.

“... They can be?” He starts, pausing to frown and cross his arms over his chest “I guess? But like — I — What is this about, Jacks?”

Jackson sighs and starts flapping his hand in the air in Jaebeom’s general direction, “Help me up, I need to pace.”

Jaebeom stands up and helps pull Jackson out of the sofa as Jackson groans, pops his back, and then starts waddling back and forth in front of the TV with a hand on his back. The television itself is muted, but still has the bright cheerful smiles and slightly dead eyes of yesterday’s idols plastered across the screen on Jinyoung’s ridiculously hi-def TV that Bam made him buy. Jackson shakes his head and takes a deep breath, and Jaebeom can basically see the way Jackson throws himself off the emotional deep-end with the kind of bravery Jaebeom can only admire.

“I had a wet dream about Jinyoungie,” Jackson moans, shoving his hands over his eyes, pausing for a moment with a creak of his bones and a slightly out-of-breath huff, before starting to walk again, throwing his arms out wide, “And I can’t stop thinking about it!”

Jaebeom very carefully folds his lips over his teeth, because his first instinct is to _laugh_. That’s _it_? Jaebeom has been friends with Jackson for more than a decade and Jackson has never made any secret of how handsome he finds Jinyoung, even before that developed into a proper crush five years ago. Jaebeom is _more_ surprised if this is the first time Jackson has had a wet dream about Jinyoung. But he can see that this is genuinely something distressing to Jackson, at least if he catches the slight tremble, the nervous bite to Jackson’s lower lip. So he takes a breath and doesn’t laugh. Because he loves his friends and he wants them to be happy together even though all he wants to do _right now_ is laugh and point at them and go _you_ fucking _idiots_. He can do that later, when they’re married and have another kid on the way so that Jackson is too big to hunt him down and kill him.

“Okay,” Jaebeom says slowly, exhaling slightly and stapling his hands in front of his chin, sitting back down into the sofa as he watches Jackson waddling about in the apartment, “That’s —” He pauses as Jackson does the same in his pacing, his frankly ridiculously big eyes looking positively distraught as he looks back at Jaebeom, “— I can see that you think that’s bad,” Jaebeom settles on, at last, which makes Jackson grimace at him before continuing his waddling, “So... Uh, even if you don’t... want them, why the question about the hormones?”

“Because!” Jackson exclaims, somehow managing to fill the entire room with a burst of his hoarse voice and a throw of his arms, which reminds Jaebeom very much of the young man with a large presence and accented Korean he barely tolerated almost twelve years ago and now is one of his closest friends, “Maybe the hormones made me think about it! Huh? What if the hormones are trying to ruin my life? Me and Jinyoungie are _finally_ at a place where he doesn’t have to worry about me jumping him, but apparently, my _body_ has different ideas —”

Jaebeom looks up to the ceiling, counts to five, and looks back, gentling his voice as he speaks, “... Yeah, I don’t think hormones can like... conjure feelings, Jacks.”

Jackson sucks in a breath, flushing red.

“Who said anything about feelings?” Jackson gasps, running a hand through his hair, furrowing his brows, pausing to catch his breath and readjust the heavy fall of his belly, “Why are you talking about _feelings?_ I certainly said nothing about feelings!”

 _Tread very carefully, Jaebeommie_ , Jaebeom thinks to himself, summoning every mature and calm bit of himself to lace them through the next words.

“Okay, so —” Jaebeom pauses, rearranges his words again before continuing, “Okay, follow me along, Jacks, could you do that?” Jackson nods, sharply, while absentmindedly rubbing over his stomach, “Have you had wet dreams about me?”

“Well, yeah,” Jackson shrugs, “Of course I have, you have nice shoulders.”

“Thanks,” Jaebeom gives a satisfied nod and clears his throat, leaning forward to catch Jackson’s eyes, ”Are you worried about your friendship with me because of those wet dreams?”

“Jaebeom.” Jackson answers flatly, sending Jaebeom a withering glare that is only slightly mitigated by the fact of how wet his eyes are, “It’s different with Jinyoung, you know that.”

“Why, though?” Jaebeom opens his palms, shrugs his nice shoulders, and shakes his head, “Seriously, why is it different? It won’t ruin me and your friendship, so why would it ruin yours and Jinyoung’s?”

Jackson looks at him, narrowing his eyes before shaking his head and pausing a bit before answering again, “I — there’s history there, c’mon, Jaebeommie,” he sighs deeply, his breath sounding a bit short as he flaps his hand again, “Okay, help me sit down again.” Jaebeom dutifully rises and helps Jackson groan back into the couch before sitting down next to him, not even blinking when Jackson leans back against the armrest and throws his feet into Jaebeom’s lap so that Jaebeom can rest a comforting hand against Jackson’s ankle.

“Yeah, but you talked about that though, didn’t you?” Jaebeom says, stroking a thumb over Jackson’s wrist, right underneath the bottom seam of Jackson’s sweatpants.

“Yeah, but —” Jackson groans, covers his face with his hands, wiggles a little bit, a movement he often does when flustered but greatly hindered by his new size, but it’s a very endearing one nonetheless, “Argh!”

“Okay, fine, let’s not talk about feelings,” Jaebeom says, patting one hand down on the ankle in his lap, “Let’s talk in hypotheticals. If —” Jaebeom says, ignoring Jackson’s pointed look, “— no seriously — _if_ something was to happen, or if you were to develop something kind of like feelings, Jinyoung won’t react the same way he did three years ago. I know he won’t.”

There is a small moment of silence, where Jackson’s face is hidden completely by his hands and Jaebeom only sees the way his throat is working, and Jaebeom carefully, gently, waits Jackson out. Because, fuck, when this is over, he’ll gather Jinyoung and Jackson in a room and just point and laugh. But right now, they’re hurting, and Jaebeom loves them in a way he doesn’t know how to word except in gentle, caring gestures, in restraining his wants and only giving them what they need.

“But, what if —” Jackson starts, taking a breath, looking up from behind his hands, “Jaebeommie, what if —”

“He won’t,” Jaebeom says, steady and sure, curling his fingers over Jackson’s skin, “Okay?”

Jackson takes a deep breath, exhales it a little bit shakily, a little bit wetly, and nods, smiling at Jaebeom a bit gratefully, before swallowing.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll... think about that. _If_ that were to happen,” Jackson breathes out again, a little bit easier, and Jaebeom pats a hand against Jackson’s knee, squeezing it a bit.

“Trust your hyung, Jackson-ah.”

Jackson hums, sighing as Jaebeom caresses a hand over his foot, gently starting to massage over the arch, before looking at Jaebeom with a closed, wide smile.

“... You know that would’ve been a lot more touching if I didn’t know you have like, a hyung-kink that’s a river wide,” and when Jaebeom splutters in response, Jackson brays one of his loud, high-pitched laughs as Jaebeom flushes deep red even as he keeps massaging Jackson’s feet.

“I still can’t believe I told you that,” Jaeebom mutters, staring up at the ceiling balefully, narrowing his eyes a bit at whichever powers-that-be that apparently wanted to make sure his life was a fucking sitcom.

“There, there, Jaebeommie-hyung,” Jackson says, wiggling his feet and then giving a low, happy groan as Jaebeom works out one of the knots in the sole of his left foot, “To be fair, you were very drunk and I just have one of those faces.“

“Punchable?” Jaebeom mutters, rolling his thumb over the ball of Jackson’s foot.

“ _Trustworthy_ ,” Jackson tsks, kicking at him a bit, giggling as Jaebeom merely rolls his eyes.

The silence stretches out for a bit until Jackson takes the remote and raises the volume a bit, just as another one of the ridiculous day-time opera jingles starts playing. Both Jackson and Jaebeom watch the introduction of the characters, Jaebeom still massaging Jackson’s feet.

“Thank you, Jaebeom.” Jackson’s voice is soft, but not in an effort to hide it. When Jaebeom looks over, Jackson’s eyes are very soft and Jaebeom smiles a bit in almost instinctual response.

“For what?”

“For listening,” Jackson sighs, waving his hand until Jaebeom leans closer so that Jackson can pat at Jaebeom’s cheek, his touch gentle and warm, “You _are_ a good hyung, you know.”

Jaebeom swallows and looks at Jackson, who just gently smiles back before settling back and looking at the television as Jaebeom feels a fierce sense of something like purpose spread inside him. Fuck, he hopes Jinyoung doesn’t fuck it up again because Jaebeom can’t stand having Jackson that distant again, having Jackson and his warm touch, large eyes, and trustworthy face on the other side of the yellow sea.

Deep in thought, he startles slightly when Jackson gives a yelp and a small kick, “Oh! She’s awake!” Jackson waves and grabs one of Jaebeom’s hands when he stretches it forward, placing it on the swell of his belly, right over the gentle little rivulets of his stretch marks. Jaebeom smiles as he feels a strong, healthy little kick against the palm of his hand.

It’s only on account of him being closer that he hears it, Jackson’s gentle little sigh and then silent rumination, muttered out underneath a breath.

“Sigh, I probably wouldn’t have a chance anyway, looking like this,” Jackson mutters before giving a small grimace at a particularly hefty kick.

 _You’re really trying me, aren’t you?_ Jaebeom says, silently, to the aforementioned powers-that-be, because this time he almost _snorts_ in laughter. Because _seriously_ , a week ago, Jaebeom watched Jinyoung walk into a wall as Jackson huffily squatted down to get the tea towel he’d dropped on the floor. _Fuck!_ Jaebeom thinks, biting his lips, releasing the breath kept between his teeth, and the small break of laughter with it, his hand still on Jackson’s belly.

 _We’ll laugh at them, baby_ , Jaebeom thinks, stroking a thumb over Jackson’s belly, feeling the strong little kicks of a child he can not fathom doing anything but love, if she’s anything like her father, _we’ll laugh at them so much, you and me, once you’re out._

**Coda**

_5 am, that morning_

Jackson moans as the large hands trail down his skin, down into the dip of his waist, over his hips, gripping onto his thighs, each echo of it lingering over Jackson’s skin like a breath misting on a winter’s night.

“Seun-ah,” a low, gentle voice murmurs in his ears, vibrating low and deep into his very spine, shaking Jackson to his very core, the depth and melody of it all-consuming and scorching. Warm, deep eyes, an adoring gaze, gentle touch and fierce grip, hot flesh pressed against his, ground down against Jackson’s aching want.

“Ah,” Jackson whimpers, arching his back, eyes fluttering as Jinyoung’s soft lips trail over his collarbone, over his chest, “Ah, Jinyoungie —”

With a gasp, Jackson wakes up as though rushed awake with cold water, his arms tight around his pillow, his legs tangled in the sheets. Jackson almost _never_ remembers his dreams, but of _course_ , this one lingers. Of course! _Fuck_.

Fuck. Fuckity fuck _fuck_. _Fuck!_

Jackson runs a trembling hand through his hair, breathing to ease the rush of his heart, the coiling heat and agitated pulse of his cock. _Fuck_.

His mind flitters and shies away from the implications of the dream, from the warmth and the remembrance of it spreads over his cheeks, over the gentle little curl of purring satisfaction still present even though he didn’t even come.

But right then the baby kicks, grumpily aiming right for his bladder and Jackson hisses as he mutters to disentangle himself from the body pillow and his sheets. He shakes his head, sighs, and gets up to go to the bathroom, ignoring the way the phantom touch of Jinyoung’s imagined hands over his body still lingers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man i wonder what's happening here huh, is jackson... realising something? allowing himself to realise something? hm?
> 
> :)
> 
> anyway, jackson is now officially Large at 30 weeks, and i'm enjoying it immensely. so is jinyoung. "enjoying" or "suffering", what's the difference, really?
> 
> i know that i am so so so slow at answering comments right now but i can't stress how much they mean to me. i am just... everything just takes a long time, at the moment. but i love every single one of you! and i will answer as SOON as i can!
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	15. 30 weeks, part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

Jinyoung is rarely the one with the responsibility for Jackson’s little walks. The reason for this is the way the others grumble and accuse him of hogging precious Jackson-and-belly time, which, in fairness, isn’t wrong, considering that he has Jackson over the non-promenade time. Yugyeom used this as an argument, putting it forward together with a powerpoint sporting very impressive-looking pie charts regarding _Quality Jackson_ -time and the way it was split between them. As such, it was decided that the walks are usually the other boys' responsibility, if nothing else because it made Yugyeom stop sending Jinyoung selfies of him pouting accusingly into the camera.

But since it is a rare occurrence, that only means that he values them all the more when they happen. Like today, with Jinyoung and Jackson taking a stroll around the neighborhood, Jackson pink-cheeked and huffy-breathed as he waddles in a pace that would probably be a jog if it wasn’t made impossible by the sheer size of him.

They are on Jackson’s monthly check-in route around the neighborhood, making it through a list of their neighbors, all of which Jackson got to know better about in a week than Jinyoung had for the entire five years he’s lived here. Jinyoung is the designated carrier of Stuff. This means that he’s in charge of the ultrasound photos, the book with Jackson’s meticulous notes about the changes to his body and the detailed calculations of how big the baby is at the moment (with several different parallels to a variety of fruit written in the margin).

“Jackson-ah!” Mrs. Yang, owner of the corner store exclaims brightly, shouting into the store to call her husband who soon joins them, carrying two packages of Jackson’s favorite peanut cookies. He hands them over to Jackson, who after the usual _oh no i couldn’t, oh yes you should, oh no i couldn’t, i insist, fine but then i must pay, oh no i couldn’t, oh yes_ _you should_ \- dance, hands them over to Jinyoung who dutifully puts them into the bag. Jinyoung, in one practiced movement, deftly hands over the ultrasound pictures so that Jackson can show them off and the couple can make the appropriate _ohs_ and _ahs_ before asking the tough questions about the size of the baby and Jackson’s spiritual and physical health.

“The baby is growing well?” Mr. Yang asks, looking starry-eyed and slightly wetly, at the blurry shape of the baby on the grainy ultrasound photo.

“Very well,” Jackson says, “Jinyoungie?”

“40 centimeters, or something thereabout,” Jinyoung answers, with a smile, bowing in thanks as Mrs. Yang hands them a green tea that is good for pregnancy and balancing the stomach, “About the size of a good cabbage.”

“Ah!” Mrs. Yang says, wiping underneath her eyes with a finger as she runs a finger down the photo, “And you are positively _glowing_ , Jackson-ah!”

At that, Jackson huffs softly, flushing a bit pinker, pressing one hand against his back, jutting his stomach out. He’s not having a great day, looks-wise, today. He’s been grumbling about being large and unwieldy the entire morning. He’s also been whining about the red, angry zits breaking out along his jawline and about the rash that he’s been getting on his inner thigh, where his growing thighs are rubbing against the inseam of his favorite pregnancy trousers.

But —

Jinyoung finds him so beautiful. It almost steals his breath, seeing Jackson in the morning, puttering about the kitchen, or getting some job done by the standing desk they’ve managed to fit into a corner. Jackson in the morning is a sight, newly showered and softly restful from his sleep, not quite tired enough of his growing body to find it annoying yet.

And in the afternoon, when Jackson comes waddling to greet him after work, already laughing into a story before Jinyoung even has his shoes off. And then in the evening, when Jackson’s body physically puts a stop to moving around too much, and he finally rests, his feet in Jinyoung’s lap as they watch a show, his hand absentmindedly stroking the large swell of his belly.

Jinyoung loves him during the entire day, from the brightest morning hours to the blue-tinged light of a sunless evening, and Jinyoung _should_ perhaps be more careful, guard his heart a bit better. But —

“We must get going! Mrs. Kim down the street threatened murder if I didn’t show up today, and with the speed I walk in today, we must get going if we want to get there before nightfall,” Jackson nods, decisively, patting his belly and walking off with a cheerful wave that’s easily reciprocated by the soft-eyed Yangs, their faces warmed by gentle, fond smiles, “Jinyoungie!” he says motioning for Jinyoung to hurry up, as though Jinyoung would have difficulty keeping up somehow, even when Jackson is more trudging than walking, huffing with each gentle sway of his waddling body.

The thing is that Jinyoung loves him so much. There was not one moment when Jinyoung looked at Jackson and knew that he loved him, that the little crush had grown into more. Instead, he had simply looked upon Jackson one day and found that the love had been carved into his bones, settled into his spine, and curled into his heart, so intricately linked into the very core of him that it would be impossible to disentangle.

He can not do anything _but_ love Jackson and the knowledge should scare him. It should shake him, make him quake and worry in the face of perhaps never being loved back, but Jinyoung... isn’t. He will love Jackson even if Jackson never loves him back, he will adore Jackson with every breath in his body as long as Jackson will keep him close. And it should — it should scare him, but Jinyoung simply finds that it doesn’t. Instead, it gives him purpose, shapes his life into something better, into something kinder through the strength of his love. His life is better with Jackson in it, no matter in what shape or form.

Later, Mrs. Kim hands them some knitted little socks and Jinyoung sees the way Jackson’s hands tighten over the smallness of them and when he hands them to Jinyoung to put into the bag, it is with slight trepidation. Jinyoung looks down at the small socks and the way they don’t even cover his palm, so small they seem almost like made for dolls.

They say goodbye to Mrs. Kim and make their way to the Misters Choi who coo and reverently touches their hands to Jackson’s belly. When Jackson hands over the ultrasounds photos, they hand their own pictures back, of the beautifully crafted wooden cradle they are carving just for Jackson. Jackson sniffles a bit at that, making Jinyoung step forward and wrap his arm around Jackson’s shoulders, answering the questions (“about 40 cm, the length of a nice cucumber”) before they part once more, with Jackson’s vague threats of paying for the cradle being met with horrified _no’s_ and _never, jackson-ah_.

“You alright?” Jinyoung asks, leaning a bit closer, watching Jackson’s cheek dust with pink from the cold, Jackson’s dark eyes quickly darting to the side before turning to look at him properly, sighing as he leans into Jinyoung’s arms.

“Yes,” Jackson pats at the small of Jinyoung’s back, his hand lingering for a second too long, which Jinyoung notices but dismisses just as easily, “Yes, I’m good, Jinyoungie, thanks for asking.”

The old grandfather, Mr. Lee, sitting bundled up in front of his daughter's restaurant with an infrared lamp pointed right at him, his old, gnarly fingers deftly cleaning string beans into two different vats, looks up as they come closer, giving a friendly greeting. He gives both Jinyoung and Jackson a bean to chew on, the green still crunchy and cold from the ice they’d been resting in just after harvest.

“She’s going to be a fighter!” Mr. Lee says, patting Jackson’s forearm with a sure hand, “I can sense it!”

“She certainly kicks like one,” Jackson smiles, leaning forward to tuck Mr. Lee’s scarf a bit tighter around his neck, “Now, be careful in the cold and ice, Mr. Lee, and tell your daughter not to work too much.”

“She will not listen!” Mr. Lee laughs, shaking his head, “Daughters never do! I knew it from the moment she moved the first time in my belly! I said to my husband, I told him _this girl will not listen to us, believe you me_ , and I, God, was I right,” his smile softens as his laughter subsides into chuckles, “You’ll see, Jackson-ah, how daughters never listen, and how much of a joy they bring, for the rest of your days.”

“I look forward to it,” Jackson says, his hand resting over the swell of his stomach, his fingers curling slightly over the thick knitted fabric of the large sweater he’s wearing, “She’s big as a —” he pauses, looks to Jinyoung, bats his large eyes and Jinyoung loves him and his kind heart so much his heart feels like bursting, “— uh —”

“Butternut squash,” Jinyoung answers softly, smiling gently, watching Jackson’s eyes grow a bit wider before he quickly turns back to Mr. Lee.

Mr. Lee, who is shrewd and well-traveled, peers at him underneath bushy eyebrows, knowingly. Jinyoung calmly looks back with a smile, meets the gaze and its weighty perception head-on.

He and Jackson continue, meeting the two Mrs. Yun, who promises to pray and light some candles that Sunday for Jackson’s continued health. Their young son, who is just learning to walk and using that knowledge to his full advantage, demands to be let out of his carriage the moment they stop, giggling and toddling his way over to Jinyoung. Jinyoung bends down immediately to greet him, holding out his hands to give the small boy something to hold onto.

“Phbbt,” the child says, blowing a bit of spit with his tongue, his round face scrunching up into bright laughter as he pats on Jinyoung’s cheeks, pulls at the skin, and watches Jinyoung’s face change with it.

“Phbbt,” Jinyoung answers seriously, which makes the toddler fall into his arms in peals of laughter and Jinyoung gently wraps his arms around the small, laughing body, carefully helping the child stay upright.

When he looks up, he finds both Mrs. Yuns and Jackson watching him. Jackson blinks, his large brown eyes wide and his lips slightly parted. Jinyoung tilts his head and tries to send comforting _are you alright_? _do you need to pee? there’s a café two blocks down with a nice bathroom_ -vibes.

Jackson gives a small, slightly squeaky noise and rubs a hand over his cheek, pinching the flushing skin.

“We should get moving!” Jackson says, puffing up his cheeks at the raised eyebrows of the two Mrs. Yuns, turning his nose up as he gently pats the soft strands of the child’s black bowl cut and without seemingly a thought, he also runs his hands through Jinyoung’s hair. It makes Jinyoung flush, the scrape of Jackson’s fingernails against his scalp, the careless and comfortable intimacy... Jackson, who notices what he’s doing a second later, quickly removes his hand.

“You should,” Mrs. Yun says, looking to her wife, sharing a glance between them in the way two people that have known each other for years can do, “See you next month, Jackson-ah.”

Jackson huffs, but when they walk away and comes a couple of steps away, he sends Jinyoung a glance through the corner of his eyes before carefully reaching out and intertwining their fingers.

They’ve held hands a thousand times. Jackson loves doing it, loves to swing their hands together when they walk down the street, or just when they’re sitting next to each other on the sofa.

But this feels different, somehow, Jinyoung thinks, curling his fingers, holding Jackson’s hand a bit more securely.

“So, what’s next?” Jinyoung says, looking at Jackson’s handsome face, the lines of it still sharp even through the softening sweetness of it.

“Buy me food?” Jackson says, after a second or two of silence, licking his lips and glancing at Jinyoung underneath his eyelashes, swinging their interlocked hands between them.

“Anything,” Jinyoung breathes, and in response, Jackson smiles broadly enough to rival the sun.

**Coda**

_Later that same day_

“Jackson, I asked the Chois to send over the measurements for the crib. To be honest, it’s going to be a struggle to fit it into your room, we might have to move one of your wardrobes —” Jinyoung walks into Jackson’s room, after dutifully having knocked, but as he looks up from his phone and the badly taken photo of hand-written measurements, he stops, the rest of the sentence escaping him in an indecipherable wheeze.

Jackson is in front of the mirror, removing his sweater, right in the middle of turning it over his head. And that’s fine, that’s not the... thing that makes Jinyoung stop and gape.

It’s the swell of Jackson’s stomach, the way he’s turned slightly to the side, showing the full curve and thickness of ass and thighs, the new padding of his hips bulging charmingly as he bends and twists to get the sweater off.

“Just give me a minute!” Jackson says, slightly muffled from inside his sweater, pulling it a bit higher, shifting his weight so that his waist curves and bunches in gentle little rolls that Jinyoung wants to run his hands over, press his fingers into, feel it give underneath his fingers —

“Do you need help, Seun-ah?” Jinyoung says, pulled ever so slightly out of his stupor by the low grumble of displeasure muffled coming from the sweater.

“No!” Jackson says, voice a bit high-pitched and shrieky, “No, I might not be able to tie my shoelaces anymore, but I _can_ get out of a _fucking_ sweater —” he wiggles his entire body and, well...

Jackson doesn’t really have breasts, but what he does have are gentle mounds that are slowly growing softer, filling and curving underneath Jackson’s favored tank tops and loose t-shirts. And this time, since he’s wearing a tank top, the flush fat of his chest _jiggles_ , squishing together as Jackson brings his arms together in an odd sort of maneuver which makes the golden chain necklace he’s wearing fall and shape itself over the round, soft flesh of his chest.

Jinyoung knows that he shouldn’t stare. He _shouldn’t_ —

“I need help,” Jackson grumbles tiredly from within the sweater, slumping over a bit, one arm only halfway out of the sweater and the other one somehow stuck into the other arm inside-out.

Jinyoung shakes himself out of his stupor by blinking furiously and quickly moves forward, praying to whatever cruel God there is that they will show mercy and at least let the flush of his cheeks go down before he untangles Jackson from his sweater.

Jinyoung gently tugs at the collar, and Jackson blinks at him right over the edge of it, his large, brown eyes looking betrayed, his hair fluffy and unkempt. He’s _pouting_. Jinyoung can’t even see the lower half of Jackson’s face, but he _knows_ that look of his eyes. _Fuck_. And, honestly, isn’t that little word just a perfect descriptor for his entire life right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are slowly crawling our way towards the end! only nine chapters to go! the moment jackgyeom is finished i'm gonna buckle down and try and get those nine chapters done in maybe three weeks? we'll see. this week has been incredibly productive, but who knows what will happen! 
> 
> i... like this chapter. i think it's soft. my oldest sister lives in the city, just like me, so we didn't have these kind of walkabouts. but my other sister, she lives in a smaller place, and the... like, i am a city-girl through and through, and i'm not built for the type of familiarity that exists in villages or smaller cities, but when i was living with her for a couple of months to help her out with her pregnancy, i kinda... got it. like i got why you would choose that, instead of a city. and more specifically, i kinda understood all the country-singers that sing about missing their hometown.
> 
> here, i duplicate it in a neighborhood, which feels good enough. i hope it was nice for you guys to read!
> 
> if you like this story, please consider leaving a review! i am going through and answering slowly, but i read and love each and every single one.
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


	16. 34 weeks, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd.

“But _why_ can’t we watch the latest Marvel movie?” Bambam whines, placing his entire long torso over the kitchen counter, leaning down so that he can look up at Jinyoung despite being taller, “I’ve only seen it like, thrice, and I really want to see it again.”

His voice is a lilting kind of whine, the one that he’s learned from Yugyeom and Jinyoung just sends him an unimpressed glance with all the gravitas of someone who has known both Bambam and Yugyeom for close to ten years.

“Jackson doesn’t want to watch it,” Jinyoung explains, measuring up popcorn kernels carefully, placing it in the pot with the oil before covering it with the lid and a kitchen towel, “So we’re not watching it.”

“Oh my _God_ ,” Bambam whines and meets Jinyoung’s unimpressed gaze right on, because just like Jinyoung has known him for almost ten years, that relationship has gone both ways, “You are so _whipped_ ,” Bambam says, folding his body in a way that makes him look both boneless and insolent.

“He doesn’t want to,” Jinyoung says, one hand on one ear of the pot, slowly moving it so that the kernels don't burn, “We had an ultrasound today, it was emotional, so he gets to choose the movie.”

Bambam rolls his eyes with such force that Jinyoung wants to throw something at him because you can basically hear the way he does it in the air. Bambam then, in true troublemaker fashion, shapes his mouth to release a sound that sounds a bit like a whip-crack and a lot like someone just saying _wa-peesh_ with an accent. It is obnoxious enough to make the muscle running along Jinyoung’s entire shoulders tighten. 

Jinyoung just looks at Bambam, one eyebrow raised. Bambam grins back, plopping one of the cocktail tomatoes into his mouth before breaking it between his teeth.

“Jackson-ah? Can you come in here for a moment?” Jinyoung says, the first couple of pops sounding from inside the pot, Jinyoung placing both hands on the ears, over the towel, moving it from side to side as the popping continues.

“No, damn you, why would you —” Bambam starts, his entire face wrinkling into sourness as he quickly shuts up the moment Jackson walks into the kitchen, his entire body swaying with the motion of his gait. Jackson, huffing a bit, looks warm and open, slightly wet-eyed and tender, the way he always does after an ultrasound, and especially after this one when he’s seen the baby soft little fingers curl into something that could almost be called a wave.

Jackson’s growing bigger with every passing day and now walks permanently slightly leaned back, with one hand on his waist, splaying over to support the arch of his lower back. He’s also practically radiant, in Jinyoung’s humble, objective opinion, golden-skinned and smiling, just a little bit softer around his naturally sharp and chiseled features.

“You need help with something, Jinyoungie?“ Jackson says, blinking at him, leaning over to touch a hand to Bambam’s cheek while Bambam tries to pretend as though he’s not leaning into the touch, “Do you need help opening another jar?” Jackson says, looking sympathetic, flexing his freakishly strong hands.

“No, that’s okay, I just wanted to ask if you wanted salt on the popcorn,” Jinyoung says mildly as Jackson blinks a bit baffled.

“Uh, yes, that would be... good?” Jackson says, furrowing his brow, “Jinyoungie —”

“Speaking of salt, me and Bambam were talking about the movie choice of the evening,” Jinyoung says, shaking the pot, moving his entire shoulders while doing it, “What were you saying about it, Bam-ah?”

“Uh,” Bambam starts as Jackson turns to him, sending Jinyoung a slightly panicked look over Jackson’s shoulder, “Uh, I was thinking, you know, kind of how — I just really think —”

“Aw, Bam-ah, you want to see something with action?” Jackson sighs, rubbing a hand over his belly before resting it on the top of his belly, “You know I would love to, but the baby always gets so jumpy from loud noises,” Jackson shakes his head, shifting his weight, arching his back a bit as he rubs a hand over his back, “And I want to be able to enjoy the movie with you guys without her kicking me all the time,” Jackson makes a soft little sound, stretching out to fix Bambam’s collar a bit distractedly before smoothing his hands down over Bambam’s shoulders, “But I also want you to have fun, Bam-ah, so what do you want to watch?”

Jinyoung can only see the back of Jackson’s head, but from Bambam’s distressed, flushing face, Jinyoung can surmise that Jackson is probably doing that thing where his face is about 90% large, doe-like eyes. Jinyoung shakes the pot, rolling the popcorn and hearing another couple of pops hit against the lid.

Bambam folds like a sheet whisked from the clothing line by a gust of wind. 

“No, no, I — I was just saying I was looking forward to seeing what you choose,” Bambam mutters, folding his arms over his chest and pointedly looking away from Jackson and his big eyes before his shoulders slump slightly, “What are we watching?”

“A romantic comedy!” Jackson smiles, looking back at Jinyoung with something slightly mischievous in his eyes and Jinyoung just smiles back, removing the pot from the heat just as Jackson turns back to Bambam, “Save the last dance.”

“The one with Richard Gere? _Really_?“ Bambam groans, eyes flicking up to the ceiling before he breaks into a tight smile, giving a thumbs up that’s so oddly enthusiastic it basically drips with sarcasm, “Sounds _great_!”

“I’m glad, Bam-ah,” Jackson says a bit airily, patting his stomach with a satisfied kind of air, “I think you’ll really like it,” he continues, hooking his arms into Bambam’s and starts to lead him to the living room.

“ _Why_?” Bambam says, kind of incredulously, but still follows Jackson’s lead easily, following the shorter man out of the kitchen.

Jinyoung follows the two of them with his gaze before clearing his throat and going _wa-peesh_ in a perfectly mocking imitation of Bambam’s earlier intonation. Bambam just glares at him, mouthing something like _just you wait_ over his shoulder while being led into the living room by a waddling Jackson.

Jinyoung finishes off the popcorn, salting them lightly in the pot before putting them into a large bowl, following after the two others when he’s finished. Jackson is in the middle of the living room, excitedly telling the boys, all sitting on the sofa or in the armchairs surrounding him, about the ultrasound. Jackson even does a rendition of his own breakdown over the waving hand, and Jinyoung stands in the doorway watching him, smiling.

In the middle of a sentence, Jackson glances over to him, finds him looking and takes a breath, pausing for a second, before continuing, jumping back into telling the story as Jinyoung leaves his spot to join the rest of them.

“Popcorn!” Jackson exclaims, in that slightly wired way he adopts when he’s surrounded by people he likes, when his energy becomes a feedback loop interconnected with the last of them, “Ah, Jinyoungie, you’re a star!”

“Yes, it was an arduous task indeed, the creation of these popped corns, but I returned victoriously to present a gift,” Jinyoung says solemnly, grinning widely when Jackson laughs and takes the bowl, placing his fingers over Jinyoung’s, gently curling them as he takes them away.

Jinyoung swallows, watching Jackson glance away with a smile, and Jinyoung absentmindedly swats at Mark who has an entire eyebrow raised at the exchange.

There is a knock on the door, just loud enough to be heard over the natural boisterousness of the group, and Jackson perks up.

“That has to be the pizza!” He says excitedly, handing the popcorns to Bambam who immediately looks Jaebeom right in the eye and then just places his large hand on top of all the popcorn. Jackson huffs a bit as he waddles off to his jacket that’s draped over Mark’s armchair and starts digging it through to take out his wallet.

“I’ll pay for it, as thanks for today!” Jackson exclaims, brandishing his wallet like a prize, “Jinyoung has been a rock through the entire day, you should’ve seen him fend off the vultures trying to get the best parking spot, it was like watching a knight —”

“You don’t have to,” Jinyoung says mildly, “I was happy to help, you know that.”

“No!” Jackson clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair, looking at Jinyoung a little bit through his eyelashes as they dip lower, not shyly but definitely with _something_ behind it, “I’d like to buy you the pizza, Jinyoungie,” Jackson says, “Let me?”

Jinyoung blinks. There is merely a second of silence, a small little blip in the conversation because wait, _wait_ , that means something, doesn’t it? It —

“Yeah,” Jinyoung says, licking his lips, “Okay, yeah, if you — yeah. You can do that,” he swallows, “Thanks.”

They look at each other, for just a second, until there is another resounding knock and Jackson kinda startles into movement with a sway, toddling off to get the door his cheeks tinged soft pink.

The rest of the guys all look at Jinyoung, every single one of them with the collective energy of _well well well, would you look at that_. Youngjae grins widely, doing a thumbs up and — yeah. Yeah, things have been different lately.

Jackson’s been... closer, mostly, but there are other things as well. Jinyoung’s noticed that Jackson is _looking_ , following him with his gaze and it’s something new about that. Look, Jackson’s always been like a cat, and when he’s not in the center of attention, he loves to just... look at people. So, being the subject of Jackson’s attention is by no means uncommon, but it’s been... different. Jinyoung can’t pinpoint exactly when or where it’s happened, but he just knows that sometimes when he turns, he finds Jackson looking at him, and it has a weight to it that wasn’t there before.

It’s nice, being noticed, and it’s... nice, to think that it might mean more.

Especially, Jinyoung thinks as he flushes red, since he can’t stop looking at Jackson either.

On the tail-end of that thought, Jinyoung picks up a throw pillow and chucks it at Yugyeom, who’s making kissy faces, without blinking and Jinyoung just rolls his eyes as Yugyeom catches it and starts to laugh. The sound follows Jinyoung back to the hallway as he goes to check if Jackson needs any help with the pizzas.

Jackson stands in front of the open door, frozen and when Jinyoung sees it, he furrows his brow.

“Jackson-ah, is everything alright?” Jinyoung says, stepping forward, “Jackson?”

He turns to the door to see a handsome, tall man with black hair curling around his ears stands on the other side. He’s sweet and gentle-faced, with round eyes and a softly smiling mouth. Jinyoung knows him. Jinyoung knows him _well_.

“Hey, Jiajia,” the man says, looking at Jackson with something infinitely soft in his eyes.

Jackson breathes out, and Jinyoung can hear the way Jackson’s been holding his breath, as though waiting for the other man to speak first, to see if it was _real_.

“A-Shu?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehm.
> 
> yeah.
> 
> i should be able to update a bit faster nowadays since i finished my last WIP. 
> 
> the bit about the baby not liking action movies is taken from one of my friends who SWORE that her baby didn't like action movies, pickled food or anyone asking her to do anything that she didn't want to do. i think she was just being a lil shit, but i can't prove anything. so i gave that to jackson, who i'm sure LOVES action movies but maybe the baby really DOES hate the loud noises? who knows.
> 
> please comment if you enjoy this story! it really helps!
> 
> If you wanna hang out and read prompt fills or little updates of my stories, please follow me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/syster19) If you want to ask me questions about something, ask me on [CuriousCat!](https://curiouscat.qa/Syster19)


End file.
